La Pittura
by BirdieInATree
Summary: Not yaoi! After an awkward incident at a Christmas party and an attempt to redo a painting, Germany discovers something about Italy he never expected. GermanyxItaly
1. Prologue

_Hello! To start, I would like to clarify that I am not the original writer here. She is a close friend of mine in real life and is unable to post it on this site, so I'm posting it for her. I take no credit for this, and neither she nor I own Hetalia!_

_Also, because I'll have to forward all reviews to her, I apologize if it takes slightly longer to respond._

_Said original author has something to say as well: Hey guys, thanks for reading~! :3 I would like this little note to say that this is probably unlike anything you've ever read! This is also on Wattpad, under the name of: Raneko_chan! Feel free to send review over there too! :3 _

_Diclaimer: The original author doesn't own Hetalia, and I don't own this work._

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><p>Everything was chaos. The rain poured down from the sky like heaven's very tears were pouring for whomever it landed. Thunder yelled out in rage at the injustice concealed only by insolence. Lightning tore across the sky, searching for a way to make it right. The wind swept across the earth, carrying turmoil on her back like Atlas held the world. The tempest raged overhead.<p>

Underneath the storm, the trees groaned to hold themselves together. Leaves toppled from the ground and gathered in the mush until the earth was a slimy soup pot. The thunderstorm would probably kill any fool who dared venture out. It was the largest thunderstorm I'd seen in a long time, and I, the fool, was in the middle of it, thanks to two things: The fact I was running for mine and my brother's life, and the fact that my brother was pulling me through this uproar and had completely forgotten an umbrella, a raincoat, or protection of any sort, for a dangerous plan of our survival.

"Romano, stop!" I tried desperately to pull away from my brother's grip. Tears streaked down my face as I was dragged along an unknown path, tripping on twigs and begging my brother to at least slow down. I was going to fall, and fall I did. This was how I learned that the earth was a slimy soup pot. My brother pulled me up roughly, angrily. I love my brother to death, which is why I'm here, but he does have anger issues.

"Don't stop, Italy. We can't afford to stop. We're almost there!" For once, he was being encouraging, probably because of our dire circumstances. If I died, the country I am would die. Not only would my people die, he, a part of me, would die as well. This, I must state, was a life or death mission out of pure Italian desperation. I felt tears warming my face, and for once I was glad I am such a crybaby.

"I'm scared!" I admitted, because I was. I didn't want to do this! I was terrified of what would happen if I fail, but even if I succeeded, I was scared. We kept running. I clung tighter to my brother's hand, seeking warmth, a loving touch. He was silent until we got to the clearing, when he turned to me, and I noticed that he was crying too in a flash of lightning. This shocked me! My brother, my strong brother, he was scared too.

"I'm doing it for the good of our country, -!" He cursed, and I winced. I always wished my brother wouldn't use foul language, but right now, I don't care. I just want to be near him. This might be the last time we see each other. I reached for his hand, and he clamped it close. His other hand reached up to my face and gently wiped away the tears streaming from my eyes. We hugged, sobbing silently.

"He's more likely… not to harm… or kill you… and… and I've even found a place for you to hide…" he mumbled, more to himself than me, and I knew it was true. As far as siblings go, I am the more likeable-at-first-glance type of person. My brother takes some… getting used to, and time was of the essence. We had to act now. He led me to where he'd found a- I kid you not- tomato crate, and fashioned it into a hiding place.

The crate was sitting in a small dip, so it wouldn't be blown away by the wind, and just underneath a tree to where the worst of the rain didn't even touch it. I gave him a small smile. My brother's love of me and tomatoes shone through this wooden crate. He helped me step inside, and I found it was quite large. I could sit down and be decently comfortable, and when he put the top on, it would protect me from the rain. I looked up and studied my brother's muscular appearance, his dark hair and honey eyes, and his olive complexion. I reached for his hand.

"Will I see you again, Romano?" I had to ask, I had to have reassurance. Lightning illuminated his face, and I saw the immense grief hidden in the darkness. He didn't know. This might be our last goodbye. I might never see him again. I squeezed his hand, begging for an answer. We would meet again, right? I wished he wouldn't just stand there so silently. Finally, I saw his lips move, but I could barely hear it. He grabbed the top of the crate and placed it to where I was completely concealed and protected by the rain. The thunder rolled, so I barely caught his words.

"I hope so, Italy." The door was sealed. I listened to him walk away. The wind carried his last words to me, and I treasured them. "I hope so." Because those were the last words I might've heard my brother say. I hit the top to make sure it was on right, and it was. All alone, the wind howling, rain pounding outside, the lightning lighting up the dark reaches of my prison, the thunder dulling out my thoughts, I was all alone.

The rain started to put me to sleep, so I wasn't crying as much. I was just… in limbo. The lightning was stopping. The thunder ceased screaming. The rain slowed to a misty veil. I began to think over what had previously happened, when my brother and I got the news we were going to be attacked by a powerful country. We were both terrified, neither of us barely had any army, and an untrained one, at that! We didn't want to die, we couldn't fight… We decided to surrender and hope this guy wouldn't shoot us dead. Finally I remembered my brother's words as we decided that I was going to be the one announcing our surrender to the other country.

"For the good of the country…?" I repeated in a whisper.

_Countries only care about themselves…_ I thought as tears started to roll down my face.

Inevitably, I was living my life in my memories again. _We fight… _I saw someone precious to me fighting my master once more. All he ever wanted was to be his own country. He was strong and stubborn; he made me want to be strong, too. _We live… and we die…_ I saw myself begging him to stop fighting. I didn't care if he wasn't a major country! I loved him! My cries did not matter. My master struck him down and killed him. I was bent down next to his body, crying, my tears mixing with the blood covering the ground.

_My friend, my love… was selfish too… just… just like my brother!_ I needed somebody to blame for our predicament, my being stuck here in a box, forced to remember the love of my life's death, and my sorrow. I remembered the years afterwards, growing up, knowing I'd never see him again. I'd never fall in love again. I would spend my life alone. This thought scared me above all else- my life without him. He was the first kind person to me, too! All my life, my country has been so weak. We have fertile lands, and rich history in art and culture, but we're weak. Everyone likes to take advantage and attack my brother and me… He simply asked. He didn't force me, he simply offered.

"Italy… Join the Holy Roman Empire…" His hand was stretched out towards me. Had I taken it, would his fate… and mine… be different now? Would I have died in the swordfight? If he and I had joined together as one nation, would we have defeated my master? Even now… would he have protected me and my brother…? My brother wasn't going to protect me- that was for sure.

"Romano locks me in a tomato crate and asks me to beg for our lives against a country neither of us have seen in battle… or in general…" I mumbled through gritted teeth, and remembered the country's name. Fear gripped, squeezed me with his icy claw. Shivers covered my whole body, although I believe that was from being cold as well as fear. My teeth clenched together, and I felt tears again, as if I was really begging for my life right now against this country. I couldn't help but whisper its name…

Germany.

The night I passed was a long one. My sleep was fitful, and filled with nightmares. I was dying. My brother was dying. I held his bloody hand. I saw my friend, my love die all over again. I joined him and died. Thousands of images of death ran through my nightmares. The final ones were of that country, Germany… He was a huge nation, towering over the trees, and simply stepped on the crate in which I was… or crushed it in the palm of his hand. Death was on my mind that night.

Finally, my nightmares seemed to end. I was a young child again, surrounded by Felicia flowers. The sunlight shone down, the day was mild and warm. A bundle of the tiny white and pink flowers were thrust into my hands by a blushing blonde about my age. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, and I hugged the flowers. He took my hand, said my name. Feliciano. A boy's name.

"I have something important to tell you."

"What is it?" Those blue eyes held something called _hope_. It was a concept I held on to fiercely. What was life without hope, anyways?

"I'm still alive…" he whispered, as he hugged me.

"Only in my dreams…" I replied…

I hardly noticed when it was morning, I just knew the box seemed lighter than before and my clothes, which, by the way, I was wearing guy's clothes, were dry. My chestnut hair was dirty and clumped with mud from the fall I mentioned early. My hair curl was stiff as if I'd placed a stick on my head. Birds chirped in the distance. That was always a good sign. If nothing else, I hoped the birds were telling me, 'wake up, Italy, you're going to live through today~'. If only birds could talk.

All of a sudden, I heard footsteps through the leaves. They were normal footsteps, not ones of a giant. There was a deep voice with a thick accent I've never heard before. Fear crept over me. He was here! That was him! I tried to make out what he was saying, but it was hard. He did sound like he was in a decent mood, which either meant something really good or absolutely horrible, then he started apologizing to something called a 'shtick'. I wonder if it's some sort of German food.

All I could think of as he got closer was '_don't open the box!',_ so I decided to tell him not to open the box, simple as that. How did I do that? Well I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, considering I was in a tomato crate…

"I'm the box of tomatoes fairy! Let's be friends and play with each other!" Ah yes, I'm brilliant. Well, unfortunately it didn't work. He knocked on the box with… what I think was his rifle, and then tried to open the box. I cried out more fervently, but I felt a little smug. There was no way he could open _this _box! Only I could, because it opened from the inside… then the box began to splinter. I began to panic.

_He's so strong!_ I whimpered and tried to crawl to the back of the box, terrified. I was trapped like an animal in the worst possible hiding place. Way to go, Romano! I screamed louder at him to not open the box. Tears started rolling down my face. I was going to die! This guy was going to open the box and shoot me! I tried to get ready to jump up and run for it. I wanted to live! All at once, the box top popped open.

The man was strong, built sturdy as an oak. Muscles bulged from his arms. He was wearing a formal-looking green military suit, with a rifle strung on each side. He had blonde hair, streaking down, perfectly round and shapely on his head. I felt ashamed of my messy chestnut tresses. He had sideburns gently going down his face, and I caught myself when I looked there, on his face. His eyes were blue as forget-me-nots. I was momentarily stunned. He… he looked like my love!

_So this is Germany…_ I thought… and then began promptly begging for my life.

"But the moment I looked into those forget-me-not blue eyes, I knew he wouldn't hurt me."


	2. Peppermint Winter

_A/N: This is a day late because my internet was down. From now on, it will be updated on Sundays. If for some reason it's not up on Sunday here, you can look up Raneko-chan (chan is included in the username) on wattpad, that's the original author and it will definitely be there._

_Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! _

_Author's note: From here on out, the chapters will be named after songs that I believe fits the context of the chapter. :D This particular one is from Owl City. :) Enjoy~_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia nor did I write this, and I take no credit for either in any sense._

__**EDIT: The superlatives thing was accidentally left in when the author was still messing with ideas. We've removed it, but she asked me to mention Germany's "Most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse" because the option made it into our high school yearbook when she mentioned it! (Not like, Germany did, as in we could pick it for someone.)**__

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><p>The day was mildly warm for winter, but then again, this was Italy's house. It was always snug. Germany remembered wistfully the snow falling over at his own house. It would be really cold. He was sitting in Italy's room, freshly cleaned, to his insistence. They'd decided (well, Italy decided and absolutely refused to waiver) that instead of training, which Italy still sorely needed, they would clean Italy's house before Romano got back from his weekend trip to Spain's. They'd both decided to go over to America's house for a scary movie marathon, but after America's power went out, they stayed in Spain… and watched scary movies until their eyes bled. Germany knew he was coming back tomorrow.<p>

"But the moment I looked into those forget-me-not blue eyes, I knew he wouldn't hurt me." Germany read, and stared at the small book that was probably Italy's diary. It had been lying around on his dresser, and the title was 'Dear Germany- Today I met you'. He thought it had been a letter. He felt like some massive confusion had been lifted off his shoulders by reading the words contained there, even if it wasn't really meant to be read.

"So _that's_ why Italy was hiding in a tomato crate." He said aloud. _I probably would've shot Romano…_ No matter what Italy said about his brother, Romano was annoying. Germany couldn't help but roll his eyes whenever he thought of that… ugh. Romano had hated Germany ever since the first day, and no one had a clue why. Italy told Germany that Romano was just jealous that Germany and Italy spent a lot of time together, but Germany wasn't so sure. Jealousy in guys was more… physical. Romano was acting like a little girl.

Germany turned the page. This book wasn't his usual read, but it might help him understand Italy a little more. As of right now, even though they'd spent a long time together, he still couldn't figure him out. He couldn't figure out why Italy was so weird, or why he even tolerated him. Was this what friendship was? Not understanding each other, but hanging out, just the same?

The real mystery was his smile. Why was Italy always smiling? This kid was an A+ Loser, as America would say. According to his friends, and pleas for help from Italy, he'd gathered Italy had been picked apart and broken all his life. So why was he smiling? Germany couldn't smile like that, and he couldn't even remember most of his life. What he could remember was dark, bloody, filled with suspicion and hatred. Italy was a chance at making happy memories, and happy they were, even if they were a little exasperating.

"Germany!" Germany slammed the book down, immediately feeling guilty. He heard Italy's footsteps as he dashed clumsily up the stairs. He hid the book on the dresser and stood in front of it, as if Italy would even notice. All of a sudden, the brunette was in the doorstep, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Germany normally felt overdressed when he came over to Italy's, both brothers were very casual in their clothing, while Germany was… formal.

Italy bounced into the room and ran over to him. Germany noticed his shoelaces were untied… again. He let a sigh escape him. Had Italy just come up here to ask for him to tie his shoes? Why couldn't Japan do it? Japan was down in the basement with Italy, they were both sorting through all of Italy's junk. Germany had been cleaning the upstairs, preferring the peace and quiet of being alone.

"Germany, my shoelace came untied!" Yep, he was spot-on. Germany sighed and instructed him to sit on the bed and hold his shoe out. Germany looked up at Italy, who was grinning in his usual way, and quickly looked back down. Italy looked like a puppy, eager to please. Italy _was_ a puppy, clumsy but good-hearted. Germany tied his shoelaces, keeping his eyes on the white strings. America had gotten him some converses with neon blue laces, but Italy preferred these old shoes, for which Germany was glad. The shoestrings would have made his eyes bleed.

"I'm going to have to teach you how to tie your own shoelaces." Germany said, and Italy hopped off the bed, admiring the beautiful bow that only a perfectionist such as Germany could tie.

"Thanks, and there's another thing too. Japan and I were down in the basement, sorting through stuff, and we found a box we can't lift, even together. We were wondering if you could help us. You're strong, Germany." Italy looked up at him with his puppy grin, silently begging. Germany nodded.

"Let me finish up here in your room first, and I'll be right down." If Germany left that bed undone, it would drive him nuts. Italy looked sad that Germany wasn't coming _that very moment_, and Germany turned to make the bed again.

"Alright," Italy said, and as he was going out the door, Germany heard, "And maybe afterwards we can play in the snow at your house."Germany turned to him, but he was already gone.

_I guess that'd be okay… It'd give a use for all that snow that's piled around my house… With any luck Italy will turn it all into a giant pasta dish snowman… thing, like he did with the sand._ Germany thought. Sure, it was crazy, but Italy's love of pasta destroyed all laws of physics. He turned to the book that was slammed on the table. The paper was all crinkled up, and Germany set out to straighten it.

'Dear Romano… I love you!' was the title of this particular entry. Germany felt like smiling in amusement.

"Italy, you're the only one who thinks that way about Romano." He chuckled. He was about to read what exactly Italy's message to Romano was, when he heard a loud crash that made him jump. He looked around, and decided it came from downstairs. Did a bomb strike the house or something? Confused and concerned from Italy's safety, Germany dashed downstairs and then opened the door that led to the basement.

"Italy! Are you alright?" He could have almost laughed if he hadn't been so freaked out half a second earlier. Italy was desperately helping Japan out of a pile of… well, he wasn't quite sure. Japan was mad, which was a rare occurrence. The floor was covered in pink and white Styrofoam packing peanuts. In the corner was something that had obviously fallen out of the box- a painting. The dark-haired, brown-eyed man was standing now, and picking the sticky peanuts off of his formal-looking attire, with awkward help from Italy. Germany picked up the painting, and took in a loud breath. It was a maid that looked like Italy when he was young… if he was female.

"We're okay." Italy said, and smiled as he picked off a packing peanut from Japan's back. The aforementioned country jumped away.

"Please don't touch me." He mumbled, and continued pulling off packing peanuts.

"Italy, you dropped something." Germany felt… reluctant, as he passed the painting back. He felt the painting held some significance, but why? Italy looked at it and for a second Germany saw something uncharacteristic in Italy's eyes- sadness. In an instant, it was gone. Italy grinned up at him, but for some reason, it didn't look as happy as it did before.

"Thank you… This painting is precious to me… but it's so old, I can hardly tell what it is anymore…" Italy sighed, and held the painting close. Japan turned to see the painting. Italy began mumbling something, but Germany couldn't quite make out the words, they were in Italian. _Mi manchi… Il mio amico, il mio amore…_

"Well, Austria can restore paintings… I could ask him to restore this for you…" Germany offered awkwardly. If Italy was sad about the painting… if Italy was sad in general… no, Italy shouldn't be sad. Italy was the polar opposite of sadness. It was wrong. He couldn't bear to see Italy sad. It was worse than someone kicking a puppy.

"Ve~? You'd do that… for me?" Italy's eyes glowed bright as the first star of the night. "Oh, _grazie_, Germany! _Grazie_!" Italy was back to his old self in a matter of moments. He began jumping up and down, hugging the painting close. He even invented a song about the restored painting. Germany smiled. All was back to normal. Italy… couldn't be sad. Germany refused to allow his friend to be anything but happy.

"Gonna get restored~ my painting is brand new~ Germany's gonna ask that stuffy Austrian guy and it'll be all pretty~ La… la l-"

"Alright, let's pick up the rest of these peanuts." Germany said, and Italy placed the painting on top of a different box for temporary safekeeping. This was easier said then done. The packing peanuts were scattered all around the basement floor. These little buggers were hard to pick up, because they easily stuck to the worst possible things. Italy said he'd be washing out the peanut fragments when he washed his hair in the shower, and Germany figured that was probably true. All in all, it took them thirty minutes to pick up the majority of the packing peanuts. They probably would've stayed there for another 30 minutes had Italy's stomach not growled. They all went up, because it was absolutely impossible to make Italy do anything when he was hungry. It was impossible to make him do anything anyways, but it was even more impossible than impossible- if that was possible.

Nothing was impossible with Italy, as stated before with his pasta sculpture. There were many things Italy had done that defied imagination, but unfortunately, none of them involved battle, in that area he was still weak. However, once America had invited them to a bowling party, and Italy surprised them all. First of all, he fell on his face, dropped the ball, and managed to get a strike. The second time he bowled, he managed to get a gutter-ball… with the gutter-guards on. Don't even get people started on his architecture, or his soccer skills- it defied imagination. Italy defied all natural laws. Was that why he was so much fun to be with?

"Lunch should be ready; it was cooking in the slow cooker when we arrived, right?" Before Germany got a reply, Italy grabbed his arm.

"Then come on, let's go!" Germany felt his face get hot. Before Italy could notice, he was dashing up the stairs. He paused at the top, and opened the door.

"What? I'm hungry!" he protested, and disappeared through the door. Germany felt something creeping up his spine, a shiver of sorts, but not of cold, and most certainly not one of fear. It was like he was a naughty child who was eating sugar packets and has his mother walk into the room, catching him in the act. He turned around only to see Japan smiling coyly, as his smiles always were, as if Japan was frozen into the Mona Lisa, but for some reason, it felt almost as if Japan was using telepathy, because Germany, for once, could hear his thoughts clearly. For those who are unsure of this, no, Japan was not speaking using his mind, or at least not in that instance. As to whether he could in general, well, nobody knew.

"I know your secret." The voice said, but Germany did not see Japan's lips move. He still felt like he'd done something horrible.

Japan just smiled that coy smile, and walked over to the painting. Germany studied the maid girl in the picture. It was faded, yes, but Austria could restore it to its original brilliance. For some reason, the maid looked familiar, as if he knew her personally. It was crazy, right? Germany shook his head, and held the painting. He started upstairs, followed closely by Japan.

Italy's kitchen was a cheery color of light banana yellow. The wallpaper that ran around the entire middle of the wall broke up the yellow with a joyful sky blue. The entrance to the home was wood, with a round, gold handle, and led into the brightest part of the house. Another door, in the opposite direction, was the laundry room and the pantry. The dining table was in the middle of the room, the same wood as the door, and the chairs matched it. The fridge and various appliances were all stainless steel. The kitchen floor was wood, easily to clean. Some of the sauce from the spaghetti had dripped on the floor, and Germany itched to clean it up. Before he could, Italy came out of seemingly nowhere and placed the pot of marinara sauce on the table.

"Hi, Germany." He said merrily, and turned to grab the noodles from the sink, and tripped on the sauce lying on the floor. Germany somehow managed to catch him before he could fall on the ground, however. Germany's pants now had marinara sauce on them, but Italy wasn't hurt. Instead, he was laughing, well, more like giggling. He was a strange country…

"Grazie, Germany!" He threw his arms around Germany and hugged him tightly. Germany felt the heat return to his face.

"E-enough, get off!" he blurted out, flustered, and both countries got up quickly from the ground, Italy still laughing. He grabbed the pasta from the sink, fresh from one of those dipping pans Germany never quite got the point of, seeing as the bottom was covered in holes and it could barely hold anything. Japan silently gathered plates for the three friends.

"After this, we can go to Germany's house and play in the snow, right?" Italy asked.

"I'm not dressed for the snow…" Japan mumbled.

"I have coats here, I'm sure we can find something for you, even though you're shorter than me…" Italy said as he dipped out the pasta. Japan bit his lip, and Germany remembered that Japan was not fond of Italy teasing him about his height.

"I am older than you, you know." He said. Germany smiled. He'd hung out with Japan long enough to just begin to read his emotions.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You want me to make some hot chocolate before we go?" Italy asked.

"I've got it at my place. You two can drink it after you play in the snow." Germany pointed out. _While I have some beer…_ Germany was known for his chocolate, among other things. The one common misconception about his excellent sweets was about German Chocolate cake… That was actually invented by a guy who lived in America's place, specifically that… thing… called Texas, whose last name was German or something along those lines. Nevertheless what Americans did, Germany still had excellent chocolate.

"That'd be great!" Italy beamed, and grabbed a drink from the fridge. Germany went to the fridge for a drink as well, and sighed as he pulled something out.

"Seriously, Italy? Root Beer?" he sighed, and popped the can's top. There was a first time for everything.

"Too much beer isn't good for you." Japan said. Germany rolled his eyes. Japan and his health kicks… He took a swig of this thing called 'Root Beer', and immediately wanted to spit it out. This was not beer. This wasn't even… It… He quietly left to the bathroom, where he dumped the entire thing in the toilet. America's soft drinks were going there anyways. Disgusting.

He walked back in and sat with Japan and Italy. He was hungry, as well, and Italy's pasta was always amazing. There was no one he knew who could take stalks of wheat and a tomato, the most confused fruit-veggie thing that existed, and turn it into something so wonderful. Sometimes he wondered if it was better than Wurst and potatoes… No, nothing was better than potatoes.

Within minutes, the pasta was gone. Germany looked surprised at the empty plate, only to discover it was covered again the next moment. He held Italy's painting close, and wondered whether he should be eating and holding it… probably not.

_He eats so fast…_

Within a couple more moments, the plate was gone again. Italy offered to take their plates, and Germany let him, for once.

"Germany?" Italy asked. Germany looked up from the table.

"Yeah?"

"When we go over to your house… Can I drive?" the brunette's hair curl bounced up and down. He saw Japan stiffen out of the corner of his eyes, and turned to him, and saw a rare piece of emotion- terror. He knew his answer immediately, remembering Italy's driving. It was not safe, especially on the icy roads. Italy clasped his hands together. "Please?"

"No, Italy. I'll drive." He heard an audible sigh of relief from Japan.

~:.:~^~:.:~

The snow fell softly over the earth, tenderly embracing the ground, and then covering it. The sky was gray and looked like a vast cinereal cloud, soft as a dove's wing. The cold atmosphere seemed to make everything incredibly clear, as if looking from a distance and suddenly putting on a pair of glasses. The normally green and colorful atmosphere was now pure white, almost holy. Icicles hung from the rafters of the house, but on the inside, the light was on, giving it a cheery and warm atmosphere to a normally somber house. A figure moved busily inside the house, but though it was not the occupant, the figure was welcome. Germany had gotten over and accepted that Austria was probably not going to move out.

The aforementioned country pulled into the slick driveway, driving his own car instead of Italy's bright red Ferrari. German cars were better, and everyone knew it. Germany had VW, BMW, Audi, and all Italians had were… Alright, fine, Italian cars were decent, too. He pulled in with the convertible top up just as it began to snow again. Italy was bouncing in the backseat, making funny noises with the leather. Germany felt almost ready to kick him out of the car by the time they got there. Japan, meanwhile, was quiet; Germany forgot he had taken the front seat. Multilingual Christmas music (mostly American) always played around December on the radio, so he found himself lenient with Italy. It was impossible to be mad with Christmas music on.

Germany parked the car, unbuckled his seatbelt, and was the first to exit, although some might say it was a tie with Italy. The short brunette burst out the door and immediately jumped out, barely escaping the seatbelt. A few seconds later, he dashed back into the car, shivering, and pulled a coat over his long sleeve shirt and thick winter jacket. Japan got out with a quiet dignity, one of Italy's coats on his shoulders. Italy remained in the car, teeth chattering. Japan and Germany were much more used to cold weather than Italy.

"Italy…" Germany opened the door.

"It's cold!" he yelled in a high, squeaky voice and pulled the coat closer. Germany reached in with a sigh and pulled the wimpy country out of his car.

"Come on, you wanted to come over to my place to play in the snow." Germany reminded him that it was indeed _his_ idea to come over to frolic through the frosty atmosphere. Italy pulled out some gloves, a scarf, and a hat from his over-sized pockets, and put them on. Germany sighed in relief. At least he'd brought some winter gear. He turned to ask Japan if he had similar gear when he heard a cry. He was almost afraid to turn around.

Italy was sprawled out on the ground of Germany's icy driveway, face to the ground. Italy must've slipped on the icy driveway. Germany wasn't sure whether to laugh or be exasperated, or even to help Italy up. He and Japan ended up standing there as Italy tried to pick himself up. He was fine until… he tried to pick his head up. He let out a cry of pain, which spurred Germany to action.

"Are you okay? Where are you hurt?" he asked. Italy looked up at him, and Germany noticed his mouth- the source of the problem. His tongue was stuck to the side of the driveway, where Germany had some metal poles that were going to be part of another renovation project as soon as Italy left. The keyword in that sentence was 'were'.

"Japan, can you go heat some water? His tongue is stuck to the pole." Germany said. Japan nodded and went inside, leaving an uncomfortable silence between Italy and Germany.

"Sowwy." Italy said through a mouthful of pole.

"No, it's fine. You're not used to the ice. You can't just run out on it like some idiot." Germany said.

"Gesh no nee or your holes anymore huh?" Italy said sadly.

"What…?" Germany didn't understand him at all. It was worse than when he started speaking Italian…

"I shed-"

"Here's the water. Austria figured this would happen. That or we'd want some hot chocolate." Japan said, carrying a cup of warm water.

"Just pour it over his mouth and tongue, and I'll ease him off." Germany said. Japan slowly poured the water over Italy's tongue, and Germany took his glove off. He pulled Italy's tongue up off the pole, with the country whining the entire time. Finally, Italy was loose. He held his tongue gingerly, whimpering.

"That hurt!" he exclaimed. Germany let out a loud sigh. "But… _Grazie_. I might have been stuck on the pole forever until you rescued me! You're always rescuing me, aren't you?" Italy brightened up and smiled, as if the entire fiasco was just another of their 'adventures'. Germany couldn't help but smile back.

"Just be careful." Germany said.

"I will…" Italy bent down, and took a handful of snow in his hand.

"Italy-" Before Germany could finish, his face was filled with snow. He bent down and picked up as much snow as his hands could hold. It was _on_.


	3. Stille Nacht

_Author's note: Here we are at the christmas party scene! I could never have done this without the help of my friends Luke (Although we frequently had to remind him that this story is PG), Breebellaleacullen (only on wattpad) (who enjoyed picking on poor Japan...) and AnEverAfter, because... she's awesome. The song is by Mannheim steamroller, and plays during the bathroom scene. In my mind. :D Enjoy! Please review! I love responding~_

_Uploader's note: We don't own Hetalia!_

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><p>"Stop it, I give up! White flag!" Italy squealed under him and waved his flag desperately. Germany let him up, snow-filled jacket and all. Italy was still squealing and desperately pulling snow out of his clothes, whining about the cold. It was a little bit later in the day, Germany could tell by the sun lowering. In the winter, the sun came down very early, which meant it was going to be even colder soon. While the cold wouldn't bother him that much, as he was used to it, it would not be the same way with a country used to a mild, warm climate, with snow stuffed down his shirt. Italy was shivering violently. Germany was moderately comfortable.<p>

Germany picked him up off the ground, and began brushing snow off of his outer clothing, holding him by his arm so he wouldn't squirm. Italy complacently stood while snow came off of his thick winter coat in clumps. Italy wouldn't be going inside with all this snow inside him, that'd be a large messy puddle to clean off. Satisfied that the boy was clean after several more swipes, he led Italy inside, instructing him to leave his boots outside and to hang his coat up. Italy nodded, and wiped his feet, now covering in red and green socks, on the mat just inside the door.

"I thought you'd be coming in soon. You shouldn't stay out so late, you'll get sick." A haughty voice said, and Germany turned to see a tall, handsome man with strictly combed hair that Germany was never sure if it was black, brown, or purple as the coat he wore. Austria adjusted his glasses and handed each of them a cup of steaming hot chocolate. Italy's had three marshmallows floating in them. Italy's eyes glowed in delight. He immediately started to drink it, although spitting it out back into the cup the next minute because it was much too hot to drink right away.

"Austria." Germany greeted the man. Though Austria had a house of his own, he liked to go over to Germany's house frequently and nag him. When he did, the beauty mark below his lip would bounce up and down, and this was what Germany normally paid attention to instead of Austria's words. They were normally something about his 'messy' home, or his lack of refinement as a gentleman. Whatever it was, it was lost on Germany's ears.

"Thank you, sir." Germany was confused and a little struck at Italy's respect of Germany's free-loader, until he remembered Austria mentioning he'd ruled Italy at some point. He must have been extremely strict with Italy, because the brunette never showed the same respect with Germany. Right from the start, there were traces of fear, yes, but it was more like friendship from the beginning, ever since he'd found Italy hiding in the tomato crate. Germany thanked Austria and looked over to the living room, where he found Japan had built a fire, seeing as Germany did not have a _kotatsu_ table. Grateful, he led Italy over to the couch. The country didn't need leading; he was shivering so violently that the hot chocolate was spilling over. Italy licked the warm drink from his fingers every so often.

"Did you two have fun outside in the snow?" Japan asked. Italy nodded his head vigorously, and sipped the hot chocolate. He took a big bite out of the marshmallow, seeing as it was one of those large ones that were more common in the American game 'Chubby Bunny', of which America was champion. The game involved stuffing your face with marshmallows and basically tested how many marshmallows could fit in your mouth, and normally ended with someone choking. Germany took longer to respond. Fun… He nodded at last.

"We did." He said. Fun was a bit of a new concept for him. Germany was a more practical country. He rarely did things for fun before Italy came into his life. Italy had brought a lot of joy and exasperation into his life. A lot of it was definitely exasperation. Italy was a clumsy, gullible country who was more like a kid Germany babysat than an ally. Despite all this, they'd managed to remain friends for a long time. It was one of those opposites-attract kind of relationships.

"America called me to tell you he's invited us to his annual Christmas Eve party tomorrow." Japan informed them. Germany inwardly groaned. American parties tended to end badly. Italy, however, was more enthusiastic.

"Let's go!" he exclaimed.

"Italy…" Germany said hesitantly.

"What is it? I think it will be fun. America actually was talking about this with me a couple days ago. It sounds very exciting, to me." Italy stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. Germany turned away. No, Italy was _not_ going to guilt-trip him into accompanying him into going to one of America's parties. He could tell Japan was being guilt-tripped as well. He let out a large sigh.

_Don't let Japan crack…_ _I'll go right after him…_

"Please, guys? You're my friends, and I don't want to go alone… I guess I'll just have to go with Romano…" Italy said. "Since he's more fun to hang out with at parties, anyways." That struck a nerve. Germany could be fun, too. He was being second-placed for Romano. No, under no circumstances would he be beaten by that tomato. Italy really knew how to get under his skin after all these years of being friends…

"And Romano won't stuff snow down my shirt. He's nice to me…" That was it. That was going too far.

"Alright, fine, I'll go with you, Italy…" Germany said with an exasperated exhale. He heard a loud yell of glee. Italy jumped up in delight, fist pumping in the air. Unfortunately, as he was doing this, his hot chocolate let go of gravity as well. What comes up must go down, and get hot chocolate all over the white carpet.

"ITALY!" Germany roared.

~:.:~^~:.:~

"I'm sorry Germany…" Italy said, and handed the country more powder for the carpet. Germany didn't respond, and simply continued scrubbing the carpet robustly. Italy sat beside him and began scrubbing as well. Germany tried to ignore him. He was mad at Italy. This carpet was going to be stained; there was no way around it. He would bleach it tomorrow.

"Austria told me to help you. I'm kind of good at cleaning." Italy said. Germany looked at him, and quickly looked back down, and scrubbed ever harder.

"Tell him I said thanks." Germany said curtly.

"Germany, don't be mad at me, I said I was sorry… I didn't mean to get hot chocolate on your carpet…" Germany heard a sob hitch in Italy's throat. If there was one thing Italy did often, besides make a mess or fall clumsily, it was cry. Italy cried when he was afraid, which happened often. He cried when he made a big mistake, which was also often. He also tended to cry when he was kissing up to Germany, which was a common occurrence after the earlier-mentioned reasons. Italy was the most feminine guy Germany had ever met. Germany saw a tear fall onto Italy's hand out of the corner of his eye.

_You've got to be kidding me…_

Germany turned to Italy, sighing. He couldn't stay mad at Italy. It was like trying to stay mad with a mischievous puppy. It was virtually impossible. Italy didn't notice Germany turn; he was furiously wiping away his tears and scrubbing the carpet as if he was trying to rip it from the floor. Germany reached out tentatively, and his hand brushed against his shoulder. Germany wasn't the comforting type, it wasn't in his nature. This was probably one of the more awkward moments he faced daily with Italy. Italy was a clingy, needy country. Germany was more of a _laissez faire_ person, as in 'Hands-Off'.

"Italy…" he mumbled awkwardly.

_Don't cry, you dummkopf… _

"You forgive me? Oh I knew you couldn't stay mad at me, I'm too pretty." Italy grinned. "Hug me!" he begged, sitting there with his arms outstretched, his curl bouncing up and down. Germany rolled his eyes, and relented. Italy was a handful of trouble. He allowed Italy to wrap his skinny little arms around Germany's tensed shoulders. In spite of the heat rising to his face, Germany managed a smile. He even allowed himself to relax, if even for the slightest moment.

"I leave you two for _five _minutes, and you're already making out on the floor? Germany, you ought to have more self-control." Happy feeling gone. Germany's face became bright red as he looked up to see Austria. He immediately pushed Italy away. He noticed an amused smile on Austria's face, and sighed.

"Hi, sir. I've been helping him clean the carpet." Italy smiled up at Austria as if nothing was wrong. As if Germany had not just let him… hug him. Germany turned and continued cleaning the carpet, scrubbing as hard as he could, hoping he could wipe away his embarrassment, but it was a stain. It was just like chocolate. It wouldn't go away no matter how hard he scrubbed that white floor. What was worse was Italy just grinning up at Austria, as if absolutely nothing had just happened. It hadn't, right? It was only a hug, and friends hugged.

"I can see that." Austria raised an eyebrow.

"Is there any real reason why you're here other than to check that we're actually cleaning the floor?" Germany asked.

"Well, I heard that Italy had a request for me or something of that sort." Austria propped his glasses higher on his nose as Italy jumped up.

"Oh yeah! Germany was going to ask you but I guess while I'm here I can ask you, sir!" Italy ran into the kitchen. Austria and Germany listened a little anxiously when they heard his socks slipping all over the floor, but there was no crashing sound. He burst back into the room, toting the painting close to his heart. Italy looked back at Germany and smiled, and then turned to Austria. It was a little amusing, because Italy actually had to look up at Austria. He was a short person.

Italy handed the painting to Austria with a wide smile. Austria took the painting, and look at exactly what he was dealing with. Germany would probably never forget the fleeting look on Austria's face when he looked at the painting. For a second, a fleeting second, there was panic in his eyes. It wasn't just 'ha ha, I scared you' panic, it was almost as if Italy was pointing a gun at his head and pulling the trigger. He stood there a moment, all the panic erased, staring at the painting with a strange expression, as if he was bored.

"I can do this." Austria said simply.

"Oh _grazie_, Austria!" Italy hugged Austria tightly, but somehow managed to not hurt the painting at the same time. "You have no idea how much this means to me!" Austria seemed absolutely stunned into a petrified state for a couple moments, and then roughly shoved Italy away.

"There's no need for that. Come back in a week or something like that." Austria said, flustered. Germany watched them for a moment or two longer, until Italy started discussing what he's specifically like done on the painting. If he didn't concentrate on Italy's voice, he kind of sounded like a girl.

_Wouldn't surprise me if he was…_ Germany kept scrubbing the floor, but the stain stuck stubbornly… and it looked even bigger, too.

_I need to remember to get Italy's present tomorrow before America's party…_

Italy went to help him try to scrub it out one last time after Austria left.

"Hey, Italy?" Germany asked, stopping his work.

"Ve~?"

"Why is that picture significant to you?" Germany asked.

"It's… someone special gave it to me." Italy's features softened, and he smiled in a sad sort of way. "So I really want to thank you for offering to ask Austria to have it restored for me. He still kind of scares me, after all these years."

"Oh… no problem, Italy." Germany said; he felt a little embarrassed. Italy nodded, and quietly went upstairs.

_I guess it is too late to take you home now… Romano's going to have a fit when he gets back._

~:.:~^~:.:~

The snow was falling lightly and was still covering the ground. The home was very large, but warm and inviting. The yard was littered with Christmas decorations of all stripes. An American flag flowed in the light wind that had picked up. Germany pulled into the driveway, dressed in a smart tuxedo, matching Japan in the seat next to him. Italy, meanwhile, looked much more casual, a simple dressy shirt and nice pants, but these were hidden by a large leather trench-coat. Italy led the way, thankfully not falling on a freshly-shoveled walkway that the owner of the house must have made. The door popped open almost before Germany could knock on the door.

"Welcome to the party, yallz! For real, this is gonna be awesome!" America pumped his fist in the air and for the third time that moment, Germany wondered how he let Italy talk him into going to the party. Germany was ushered into the cheery room and found it impossible to be in a bad mood. The scent of some kind of pie hung in the air, mixing in with the peppermint and evergreen coming from a beautifully-decorated Christmas tree in the corner, covered in presents. He quietly placed his presents under the tree, Italy and Japan following suite.

"Hey Italy, the food's over here. I've got some tiramisu. That's a desert at your place, right? Can you tell me if I did it right?" America led Italy again, who, of course, agreed to anything that involved food, leaving Germany and Japan to look around. Germany began to take note of who was there, and Japan simply stood there. Germany wasn't sure what he was doing, but he guessed Japan was trying to hide. Japan was not a party person, or at least, not parties like this.

The allies were all here, Russia's sisters and Sealand included. He figured out Belarus was here when he heard a voice next to the door leading to what he supposed was the dining room. Her voice sent shivers down his spine.

"Russia~ come stand under the mistletoe with your big sister... Russia! No! No running! I will get you, big brother!" Germany started to back away, out of Russia's way as he was running (and crying) and felt something other than air. He turned to see Ukraine, who immediately apologized and ran, sobbing about how she was burden to everyone. Russia ran back, and hid behind the Christmas tree, which was a feat, considering the massive man was taller than the tree, the star on top included.

"Big sister had money for decent presents this year!" Belarus stomped into the room, and looked around. She must not have noticed the terrified, trembling mass of pink scarf behind the tree, because she entered the kitchen, calling out for Russia. Germany entered the room as well, feeling hungry. Italy tasted the stuff that must have been tiramisu, and was telling America that the taste was right, but that it was supposed to be cake, not pudding. Belarus stomped up to them.

"Have either of you seen big brother?" she demanded. Italy looked like he was about to pee himself from terror.

"B-B-Belarus… I… I have a suggestion…" Italy mumbled, and fumbled in his back pocket for an expanding white flag.

"What is it?" Belarus had a dangerous glint in her eye.

"I… I… think you should… f… find a way to… make him… run… after… you…" Italy whimpered.

"How am I supposed to do that, you little-" the rest of the words were in a language Germany didn't understand, but the intention was clear when she picked Italy up by his collar and began shaking him. Germany rushed over as Italy pulled out the white flag and waved it desperately, crying out for help. With her other hand, Belarus took a knife and slashed the white flag to pieces, cutting Italy's hand, as well. By this time, Germany wrenched Italy away from Belarus and held him close protectively, having no time to glare at Belarus before something else happened almost simultaneously. Upon seeing the knife, America was spurred out of his stupid shock, and kicked the knife from Belarus' hand and managed to incapacitate her, laying her under the ground, hands behind her back at an awkward angle so she couldn't reach up and beat the Holy Roman Empire out of America.

"Not cool, dude." America said, and the girl under him repeated the curses she'd said seconds earlier to the trembling creature in Germany's hands. "Take care of Italy. I've got Belarus. I'll make sure she can't make any more trouble." America picked her up, keeping her arms at that strange angle. She was struggling, but America was strong. She had no chance of getting free. Germany nodded and carried Italy to the bathroom. Italy was trembling and sobbing, and made no resistance when Germany picked him up and set him on the sink counter. He made no move when Germany started wiping his face with a cold wet washrag to dry the tears.

"Stay here, I'll get you some water." Germany left him on the counter, holding the wet rag. America must have thrown Belarus out or something, because she was gone and Russia looked much more relaxed… or at least, he'd gotten out from behind the tree. He walked into the kitchen, and poured water, and happened to see someone blonde with a long hair curl he didn't recognize comforting Ukraine, who was apologizing like crazy and sobbing obnoxiously. Germany shuddered. He turned off the way and walked quickly back to the bathroom. He couldn't hear Italy's sobs anymore, which meant either he'd calmed down or was sobbing quietly.

_It must be terrible having a sadist sister like that. _

"Drink this." Germany said, and handed Italy the cup. The latter was true. Italy was still crying, but it was silent. He allowed Italy to drink the water before he asked for Italy's hand. Italy was obedient as a whipped child, silent as a lamb. Germany examined Italy's hand, and felt relieved that the cuts were superficial. He took the wet rag and began wiping the blood off Italy's fingers. Italy squirmed and cried out during this little fiasco, and Germany had to repeatedly ask him to either be quiet and/or stop moving.

"Now where does America keep his bandages?" Germany began searching through the cherry wooden drawers underneath the marble counter. Italy was silent now. He'd managed to stop crying after this, and Germany made a mental note to be sure Belarus never got near Italy again. This was a disaster. He never should've let Italy come. He wondered if they should go ahead and leave. He found the bandages and began wrapping Italy's fingers.

"Stop it!" whined Italy, drawing his hand back and holding it close to his chest. "It hurts… I'll be okay, just do not touch it!" tears sprung in Italy's eyes again. Germany was taken aback for a moment, but reached out and pulled Italy's hand towards him a little too roughly, and ended up with Italy falling off the counter.

"S-sorry." Germany helped Italy into leaning against the counter. "If we don't bandage it up, the cuts will get infected." He said, and continued wrapping Italy's fingers, trying to be a little gentler. Italy whimpered in pain, but made no more attempts to pull away. Germany didn't bother with putting him back on the counter. When he was done, he led Italy out, wiping his face with the wet rag so he didn't look like he was crying.

"_Grazie_, Germany…" mumbled Italy. Germany nodded and placed a hand on Italy's shoulder to guide him through the hallway. In his state, he might run into a wall or something like that.

"Just don't get yourself into stupid situations and I won't have to rescue you." Germany sighed, and they walked over to the buffet table. Food would cheer Italy up, but unfortunately, in front of the chocolate Hershey kisses, were France and Hungary. France was holding out Chocolate kisses towards Hungary. Hungary looked ready to beat him to a pulp. Germany secretly cheered her on, and waited for them to move. Italy was eating that tiramisu stuff.

"Hey, Hungary, are you starved for some French kisses?" France asked, and made exaggerated kissing noises as he reached for Hungary's face. Before Germany could hide Italy's innocent eyes, Hungary pulled out a frying pan, although from where, he wasn't sure, and knocked France out cold on the floor with it with a loud curse in Hungarian.

"And stay dead." She said, and took the chocolates from France's hand. She popped them into her mouth and walked away, but as to where, Germany wasn't sure. He walked over to the chocolates and handed them to Italy, who was beginning to wake up from his shock.

"I don't think France is gonna wake up." Italy said as he unwrapped a kiss.

"I don't think-" Germany hardly had time to notice him before Romano wrapped his arms around his brother.

"I heard you were attacked? Geez, you idiot, why you gotta be so high-maintenance?" Romano scolded him. Italy hugged him back.

"I'm sorry, _fratello_…" Italy said, and for a second looked as if he would cry again, but instead he smiled. "Germany saved me, so you don't have to worry. He'll protect me."

"Don't talk about that potato-" before Romano could curse Germany's name and probably cause Germany to punch him in the face, Spain stepped in and picked up Italy and twirled him around.

"Are you ok, _Italia pequeña_?" Spain cooed, and tugged on Italy's cheeks. "I heard someone attacked you and I thought you'd be sad, so I brought you a churro, and if you're still sad, well I've got something special for you." Spain held out his hands and set Italy back on the ground.

"Fusososososo!" he exclaimed and made wild hand motions in Italy's face. Germany stared in shock, but it must have worked, because Italy's grin went from ear to ear and he started giggling like a little kid. Germany ended up smiling as well. It was good to hear that sound coming from Italy's lips. It was a lot better than crying. Spain handed him some kind of brown, hard, crunchy thing that smelled of cinnamon, and led Italy away. It was at that moment, Germany noticed a small sprig of green leaves with bright red berries hanging over the hallway.

"Ah, noticing the mistletoe I see. Any machinations on who will be the lucky one?" America came up to him, smiling as always, and draped a hand over his shoulder. Germany stiffened, and had absolutely no idea what 'machinations' were. All in all, he was confused.

"What are you talking about?" Germany asked.

"Mistletoe, man, don't you know what that is? No? Well, guess what! The hero is also doctor love. Mistletoe, my friend, is a plant that if you get caught under with your beloved, the two of you must kiss!" America said with great gesticulations of his right hand, seeing as the other was draped across Germany.

"That's so romantic." Italy said through a mouthful of… whatever was in Italy's mouth, and walked back in.

"Isn't it great? I'm a total genius, you know… But you two really ought to save it for later. It's about time we opened presents." America winked at Germany and nudged Italy, and led them towards the tree in the living room. Russia was handing out presents. Italy and Germany sat down with the fire towards their backs. China had draped himself across the couch, and didn't move when the weird blonde guy and Ukraine sat on the edge.

Hungary dragged him off so she could sit down. Her cheek was bulged with chocolate, and as a result she looked like a rabid chipmunk. Spain and Romano were fighting over an armchair, or rather, Spain sat down and Romano was trying to pull him off so he could sit down. France was dragged over, and Hungary used the unfortunate, unconscious pervert as a footrest. England came in, carrying what some people called scones as food, and the majority of the world called it, 'fluffy lumps of coal with horse dung spread on it'.

Germany noticed his present to Italy, and hastily kicked in behind the tree in embarrassment. He was handed presents, and began to sort them among himself and Italy. In Russia's presents, everyone received a scarf in the colors of their flags. Germany, for the first time, noticed there were a lot of red, white, and blue ones. England, France, and America were all matching. He wrapped the scarf around his neck, and found it soft. Russia had the right idea- scarves kept him very warm. China gave them all food. Germany had tried to get who he thought would be here a present, and as a result, some people were left out. Italy managed to figure out who would be there, although how he knew Germany could not comprehend. Most people refused to open France's gift after England found a pair of handcuffs. By far, the funniest gift was what America gave to his father. It was a children's 'How to Cook' book.

About this time, France woke up and began teasing England.

"Oh look at me, I'm England and I have bushy eyebrows." France said.

"Oh look at me, I'm France, I'm a frog!" England countered.

"Oh look at me, I'm England and I wear tacky clothes!"

"Oh look at me, I'm France, and I eat frog legs and snails!"

"Oh look at me, I'm England… and I can't cook!"

"Oh look at me, I'm France, and my style of fighting is to surrender!" Collective gasps of shock echoed around the room, and everyone turned to France, who looked shocked.

"Oh look at me, I'm England… and… and… I'm gay!" France said. This continued a few more minutes, and Germany crept away, as there was no way he was handing Italy his present in Public. America must have noticed, because now he was pushing him and Italy towards the hallway.

"Come on, guys, the kitchen's safe, and I'm not gonna laugh…" America said. Romano followed, demanding what Germany was doing with his sibling, and Spain naturally followed.

"You're just trying to get me and Italy under that Mistletoe, aren't you?" Germany growled, and turned around. He and America gripped each other's necks and began fighting. There was no way he'd let America embarrass him like that! In the process, he dropped Italy's gift. Italy bent down to retrieve it, but at that moment, Germany got the better of America and threw him down on the ground… on top of Italy.

Italy's forehead hit the hardwood floor with a sickening smack. America rolled off Italy, and stared.

"It was your fault!" America gasped out loud, and pointed at Italy. Germany bent down and shook Italy, who was now unconscious.

"Wake up, Italy!" he gasped.

"Don't shake Italy, you potato-"Romano snatched Italy, and Spain burst in.

"Wait, I have an idea!" he exclaimed, and waving his hands crazily. "Fusososososo!" he exclaimed.

"You're not helping, _rompipalle_!" Romano roared at him, and began to shake Italy. "He's out cold, not mad!" Italy opened his eyes, and Germany breathed a sigh of relief… and glared at America. America slowly began to crabwalk away.

"Germany, you dropped this…" Italy mumbled, and handed him the gift. Germany felt heat rising to his face, and picked Italy up off the ground.

"Yeah, it's… yours…" Germany thrust the present at Italy awkwardly. Italy took it, and looked at it. He slowly opened the wrapper, taking extra car not to damage the delicate bow on top. Germany wanted, for what felt like the first time, to flee. His heart was pounding.

_Come on, Italy, open the package!_

"A free hug coupon?" Italy asked, looking at the piece of paper.

"Well, yeah. You like to hug me so much, I figured I'd go ahead and-" Italy hugged him tightly.

"_Gratzie_, Germany, I wanna go home and print a thousand of these so I can hug you all I want!" Italy exclaimed.

"D-doesn't that defeat the purpose?" Germany asked, and heard America whisper, _kiss him, you're under the mistletoe!_ He was going to punch that dummkopf.

"Well, Italy, don't you look lovely tonight under all that mistletoe?" France stumbled over to them as if he was drunk, and Germany noticed a fresh bump on his forehead. England must have won the argument. Italy stared at him, for once, he looked kind of mad, which was about the strangest (and later, Germany would admit to himself, the cutest) expression on his face. He hardly had time to digest France's strange behavior when France snatched Italy.

"Oh how nice, I'm under the mistletoe with a lovely woman~" And with that, France kissed Italy on the lips. The next minute he was on the ground. Germany had never felt as angry as he did when he smashed that vase over France's head and then gave him the hardest kick he could possibly give to his ribs. He didn't hear Italy start to cry again, whether from shock or… he didn't care. France would pay. America ended up dragging him off of France, a little shocked.

"Germany it was a joke!" America yelled desperately as he tried pulling Germany away.

"What kind of crackpot joke was that?" Germany punched America in the face as hard as he could, and stalked off.

"I'm going home." He declared, and burst through the door. He didn't see America wipe the blood off his broken nose. He didn't see Spain try to calm Romano down. He didn't see Romano trying to kill what was left of France. He didn't see Italy bend down and brush a piece of broken vase off of a broken red rose, and cry as he held it close. All he saw was his car. He didn't remember Italy had technically already used the free hug coupon. He didn't remember that Belarus was probably still around, sniffing for blood. He didn't remember he was Italy and Japan's ride home. He was going home.

Speaking of Japan, he was in the bathroom, puking after drinking too much eggnog.


	4. Yours to Hold

_Song title is Yours to Hold by Skillet._

_Ah, I was recently made aware that the author will give a hint to the first reviewer! Obviously, this can't count for anons, sorry!_

_I had some trouble formatting this. I don't have time to check over it again so if there are any major issues please let me know._

_Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, which is not me (the uploader) or original author (mia sorella)._

* * *

><p>"G… Germany… I'm sorry about what happened… I wanna make it up to you…" Germany was lying on his bed, staring up at the midnight blue ceiling. To his ear was pressed an old gray cell phone. On his body was a black wife beater and pink shorts. A burgundy comforter was tossed over his body. He was sitting in his room the day after the party, still as angry as when "it" had first happened. On the other end of the line was Italy, who was desperately trying to apologize for France's strange behavior.<p>

Germany sighed, and toyed with the keychain Japan had gotten him for his phone a couple of 'German Heritage month/days' ago. This was not what he wanted to do when he first woke up at 6 o' clock in the morning. He had his own work to do. He wanted to hang up on Italy, but he knew Italy would either call right back or just come over, probably with a bouquet of flowers to apologize. Austria was already patronizing him at spending so much time in general with Italy, and Germany was getting really annoyed. Austria would probably be bugging him about being on the phone with Italy, but he was working on Italy's painting.

"Germany, please, don't hang up… I… I'll make you food… No! I'll take you to a nice restaurant! Don't be mad at me, it's not my fault, Germany…" Italy's pleading voice brought his attention back to the phone. Oh, alright fine. It wasn't really Italy's fault, after all. He'd just have to not think about France when he saw Italy's face. OR, for that matter, he'd just not think about France at all. He gritted his teeth.

"Alright, Italy, I'll go." He said at last. He heard cheering on the other end of the phone and held it out from his face, being able to hear it clearly from 5 feet away. He calmly waited for Italy, and heard Romano's voice on the phone.

"Who is this? Italy, have you been calling that potato-"

"Romano! Give me the phone! Romano, that hurts! Ow! Romano! You're so mean…" The phone call ended. Germany sighed. He'd get the specifics later. As of right now, he had books to read. Italy would call back in time. He calmly pulled out a book from the shelf, and just settled into the first chapter when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He rolled his eyes and slipped a bookmark into page 26, and set the book down just as Austria burst through the room. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. Knowing Austria, he probably hadn't. He probably had stayed up all night working on the painting.

"Germany!" Oh yeah, he forgot. He was going to bleach that stain in the carpet last night. He hadn't had time yesterday, and last night had been a little too… emotional to smell bleach safely. He got up, and put some pants on. May as well start the day. He walked out, disregarding Austria, and walked downstairs. It was time for breakfast.

"Germany you are so irresponsible. I just got a call from America asking where you are. You were supposed to take Italy and Japan home. Italy managed to get home with Spain and Romano, and I got many curses from Romano on that. Japan was stuck at America's house, and he was very sick. He was puking most of the night, and when he was finally able to speak without his head in the toilet, he found he had no way home, where he had some medication to ease his stomach. You're so negligent; you ought to think of other people like a respectable gentleman like myself! Then maybe you could find yourself a good woman to settle down with and stop using Italy as some sort of replacement! I don't see how you manage to waste your time with that idiot." Austria ranted as Germany cooked some eggs.

Oh, how he hated Mondays. Well, at least this Monday was Christmas. He didn't have to work today. He placed the eggs on a plate, and handed Austria some as well. Before he could finish, that phone call was continued.

"Germany, its Christmas… please come over and celebrate it with me." Germany inwardly sighed, but smiled. It _was_ Christmas, and it wasn't like he had anything else to do. What would he do, hang out with Austria all day? Speaking of the man, he'd made himself some tea and was calmly sipping it.

"Going over to Italy's?" he asked with a sigh.

"Yes I am." Germany replied, stuffing the last of the eggs in his mouth. He got up.

"Well, I can't stop you, but I do wish you'd spend it with family like normal people." Austria said. "I guess I'll invite Hungary over…"

"Alright." Germany sighed, annoyed at his brother's melodramatics. "Well, I'm leaving so…" Germany left awkwardly. He heard Austria grumble behind him, and shuffle upstairs. He was probably going to bed, which was the best choice at this point. This was why one did not stay up so late. Germany stepped out to his vehicle, and turned the engine. Through the hum of the engine, he turned the radio on, and drove away.

~:.:~^~:.:~

Romano had complained in thorough curses in his native tongue ever since he learned he would not be accompanying Italy in the dinner tonight. Germany had found out that Italy had decided to drive to his house, which, in his mind, made no sense at all. Italy had simply said that he was going to drive himself home, because he had some errands to run. Germany had been a little exasperated with Italy's 'logic', but Italy's car, nevertheless, was sitting obediently in Germany's garage, and Germany and Italy were inside the house. Germany was waiting on Italy impatiently.

"Come on, Italy! It's already 8 o' clock. Don't you have something to do afterwards too? It's dangerous to drive in the winter anyways, especially at night!" Germany ranted, pacing by the door.

"I'm sorry, Germany! I can't rush this!" There was the sound of running water, and Italy burst out of the bathroom.

"But does it really have to take you 5 minutes to use the bathroom?" Germany yelled. Wasn't tonight supposed to… a little less stressful?

"I'm sorry…" Italy looked like a kicked puppy. Germany sighed.

"Come on, then." He grabbed Italy by the arm and led him out, and he was right. It really _was _treacherous to drive, but not so in Italy. Italy, as stated earlier, was naturally very warm all year round. The coldest it ever got was around 40, which was probably why Italy had been freaking out earlier about the temperature. They managed to get to the restaurant without any further mishaps, and Italy seemed comfortable enough outside when they waited on the bench for a table.

"Guy… seeps?" Germany asked, staring at the sign with a look of confusion. The name sounded rather fishy… but then again, he was in Italy. Everything was weird. Italy started laughing so hard his entire body shook. Italy ended up on the ground, he was laughing so hard. Germany's face got red as he sat there on the stone bench, being laughed at.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"It's not… Its Giuseppe's… Jew-sep-aye's…" Italy said it slowly between fits of giggles. Germany's face felt like if someone touched it, they'd burn their hand. It didn't help that everyone was staring at Italy (even the Italians) as he rolled on the ground with laughter, getting that tux of his filthy, and Germany picked him up, and began to dust him off.

"Italy… please… control yourself…" Germany sighed as he brushed the dust off of Italy's back. "People are watching." He said.

"I always feel like~ somebody's watching me~" sang Italy. Germany sighed, and was about to reprimand him, when he saw a familiar face.

"Excuse me, your table is- oh… it's you." It was the Swedish waiter from a year or so ago. What were the odds?

"Oh hey, thank you!" Italy said, and strolled into the restaurant. The Swedish waiter brought them to a table, with the same creepy expression on his face as last year. They were both seated, and Germany felt a comfortable silence as he and Italy looked through the menu. He caught his eye being drawn to Italy's finger. On his finger gently curled around the laminated menu was the tomato ring. Germany's face grew red and he hid behind the menu, but his thoughts were somehow drawn to last night, to Italy's face. His delight at the hug coupon, and his immediate response to show his gratitude, and America's jests. Germany tried not to think about what happened after that, but it was too late. Germany's teeth gritted.

"Italy?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Ve~? What's wrong, Germany?" Italy asked, noticing his tone. Germany lowered the menu.

"Italy, I need to tell you… about last night." Germany said slowly. "I'm not mad at you for that, please don't misunderstand… I… France insulted you… I'm sorry you had to see that." Germany stammered. "I… I couldn't control myself… when he said… you were…a lovely woman…" Germany said. Sure, Italy acted girly at times, but France's comment was uncalled for. Germany couldn't handle anyone insulting Italy, or at least, that was what he thought had happened at the sudden rage he'd felt. Italy looked a little shocked, and looked down. He wrung his hands and fiddled with the napkin. Something was bothering him.

"No problem, Germany, its okay. I knew you were just trying to protect me." Italy looked down at his hands, and held them together, clenching them tightly as if he was mentally hugging himself. Germany had his turn to be surprised at Italy's reaction. Why was he so upset? Germany stared at him, waiting for the smiling face, but there was nothing. Italy remained in that position, lips pressing together.

"Are you okay, Italy?" It was his turn to ask. Something was definitely up with Italy.

"I'm okay." Italy flashed him a grin, and Germany felt himself ease up. Maybe Italy just didn't like to be reminded of it either. The Swedish waiter came by, and seemed relieved to see that he and Italy were both acting like the Swedish guy's definition of 'normal'.

"And what will you be having this fine evening?" he asked.

"Pasta!" Italy said immediately.

"Uh, do you have beer?" Germany was looking through the menu, and all he saw was wine. France drank wine. Italy drank it too sometimes, but France always had wine. Germany was still peeved about France, so there was no way he was drinking it. Beer was the drink of men. Wine was the drink of France.

"I'm sorry sir, but no." The Swedish waiter said.

"Okay… I'll… have water, and… pasta." He said hesitantly. Water was okay, he guessed. He used to drink it a lot when he and Japan and Italy were training together. The Swedish waiter nodded, and left. Germany watched him leave, and felt a little uncomfortable. He turned to see Italy grinning at him and resting his head on his arms, which were draped across the table. Germany leaned back in his chair.

"Um… why are you smiling at me like that?" Germany asked, a little scared by Italy's strange grin. Italy continued smiling at him for a minute, a sleepy look in his eye.

"Ve~ I'm just happy…" he replied at last. "You ordered pasta too." Germany sighed, but smiled back at him. He felt happy, as well. Italy was contagious.

"So I did, Italy… so I did." And they both chuckled.

~:.:~^~:.:~

Austria was in bed. The house's lights were all out. The entire area had a quiet, sleepy atmosphere. Germany looked at the time on his dash as he pulled in. He tried not to gasp at the late hour. The clock said it was past 11 o'clock. He turned to Italy, who was in the passenger seat. Italy was fast asleep. He looked so different asleep, now that Germany could actually study him normally instead of those times Italy had jokingly sneaked into his bed. He looked much younger than average, and he already looked young. He was only in his 20's in human years, after all. That was when most countries stopped maturing.

Germany unbuckled his and Italy's seatbelt, and got out of the car. He slowly walked around to the other side, being careful around the icy driveway, and opened Italy's door. Italy stirred a little when Germany opened the passenger door, disturbed by the sudden drop in temperature. He opened his eyes as Germany gently picked him up and headed inside. Germany continued to carry him though, afraid for him. If he started trying to walk, he'd be all over the place. Germany listened to the sounds of ice crunching under him as reassurance for his choice. Italy was a lot lighter than Germany, and would slip and fall.

"It's cold." Italy said as Germany set him down inside. Germany sighed and started to take Italy's coat, as Italy would probably have to stay over /again/, but Italy refused.

"I'm sorry… I'd like to stay, but I can't… Romano is counting on me." Italy said, and held the coat close. "If you don't mind, I'll use your bathroom before I go." Italy shuffled off towards Germany's bathroom. Germany nodded, and felt concerned. Italy had drank a little wine, would he really be safe on the roads? He sighed, and suddenly remembered the only time he'd been in the car with Italy as the driver.

"Isn't this fun, Germany? I love feeling the wind in my hair!" Italy said. Japan's head was bobbing back and forth as if his neck was broken.

"Italy! Slow down! We have speed limits here!" Germany yelled, clinging to his seatbelt.

"What are speed limits?" Italy laughed.

"ITALY!" Germany yelled…

Germany sighed. Italy really shouldn't be out on those roads… He sat down in his chair. He didn't feel very tired, so he thought he'd read a little bit while he waited for Italy. With any luck, he might start feeling tired. He pulled out his book, and to his relief found that the bookmark was still at page 26, right where he'd left it this morning. He managed to get to page 31 before Italy was out again. He rose to say goodbye, and Italy wrapped his arms around him. Germany was beginning to get used to these, but he really wished he would stop, but for Italy to stop hugging, well, it'd be like Germany giving up beer. It wasn't happening.

"Goodbye, Italy. Be careful." Germany said.

"See you later, Germany." Italy replied. Germany nodded. Italy smiled at him, and headed outside. Germany headed off to the bathroom as well. He drank a lot of water earlier at the restaurant. He turned to wash his hands, and noticed the tomato ring on the counter. He grabbed it, and made a mad dash outside.

"Italy!" The country was just starting his car. He turned to Germany, with a tired expression. Italy was very tired, and Germany prayed he didn't fall asleep at the wheel. Maybe he should've driven Italy home? Was that what gentlemen did?

"Ve~? Germany?" Italy asked, and got out of the car, which was a little unnecessary. Germany made sure he didn't slip, and handed him the ring he'd found in the bathroom. Italy's face lit up. Germany put the ring on Italy's finger, and Italy hugged him again, grinning ear to ear. Germany's face grew warm. Why did Italy like to hug him so much? Germany wasn't sure whether it was annoying or just cute.

"_Grazie_, Germany… If I had lost this, I don't know what I would've done… Thank you so much." Italy said happily. Germany nodded, and fondly remembered when he gave Italy that ring. It had been the same time they'd had the Swedish waiter. Although the thought was embarrassing now, and the dream he had that night afterwards was quite strange, he could look back with a smile. Someday he might try again, but, for now, he was happy the way it was now. Just thinking of that made Germany want to hug Italy back.

"Well, I saw it on the bathroom counter, and I knew it was yours." Germany needlessly explained. "I knew it was precious to you. I never see you without it, nowadays." Germany remarked, and it was true. It was Italy's most common article of clothing.

"It's precious because you gave it to me." Italy replied, and let go. "I really am sorry, Germany, but if I don't get home soon, then Romano will be really mad at me. He's counting on me to get those things for him, and I don't think Wal-Mart is up all night… so… I have to go." Italy said.

"Would you like me to drive you?" Germany blurted out. "You… er… seem tired… and… drunk…" he stammered awkwardly. What was he thinking?

"Grazie, Germany… but I'll be fine." Italy said, and smiled. Germany nodded.

"A-all right, Italy." Germany said, and held the door open for Italy, even though it would have stayed open on his own. Germany was a little confused at why he did, but he felt a little vengeful glee. He'd have to tell Austria he was a gentleman. Austria couldn't patronize him about _that_ anymore. Italy got into the car and fastened his seatbelt. He had the window rolled down, and turned to Germany.

"Goodbye, again." Italy smiled with an amused look.

"Don't get killed on the roads." Germany said. Italy chuckled, and turned the car on… and drove away. Germany went back inside his cozy home, put his reading glasses on, and curled up on the couch with the book. He yawned with exhaustion. He'd only made it to page 32 when he had to set the book down. He felt so tired… He climbed up the stairs leading to his room, and walked inside the charms of his own room. He lazily changed into a simple tank and shorts, and hung up his tuxedo, and then he drifted into bed. His last thoughts were…

_I hope Italy's gonna be okay out there… man, this pillow is soft… _

And Germany drifted off to sleep.

~:.:~^~:.:~

_I feel so tired… _I thought as I gripped the wheel tighter. I tried to change the radio station, but all it seemed to play was 'Silent night'. I looked regretfully in my rear view mirror as Germany's house grew smaller and smaller behind me. I yawned, and shook my head_._ I had to stay awake, I still have to make it to Wal-Mart, and then I can go home, and go to bed. With this thought in mind, I tried to smile, but the corners of my mouth were drawn away with another massive yawn.

"He's my best friend, best of all best friends…" I tried to sing an upbeat song to keep myself awake. It worked a little bit, despite my leaden eyes. I could keep on; at least I could make it to a coffee shop. Well, maybe I don't need coffee. Wouldn't that make it hard to go to sleep? I sighed, unsure as to whether I could make it without coffee. I looked in the rearview again.

_I should've taken him up on the offer… _I thought, and shook my head again. There was no way. I was already such a burden on him now. He was always picking up my messes, which was why I was out here in the first place. Germany is always so nice to me, it was no wonder I remember voting him for 'most caring' all those years ago. I'm glad he doesn't remember me from then. I smiled fondly, remembering back in High School. He was intimidating and scary, the few times I'd seen him. I never knew his name, but I remember a blonde student standing up for his older brother multiple times. I always admired his bravery. My eyes darted down to the speed dial. The last time I drove here I nearly got a ticket for driving too fast.

That was when I saw it. The ring on my finger glinted with the light. I thought of when Germany had given me that ring. It had been about a week since Valentine's Day. Germany had taken me to Giuseppe's for some pasta, and he acted really mad when I started talking to some of the girls that were there, just a normal conversation. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why he was so mad at the time, and to this day, I assumed that was why. He gets annoyed when I talk with girls.

Anyways, he started acting really scary and confused, and in the midst of that, I found myself with a ring with a tomato on it. I smile with amusement when I remember it now. He got himself pretty worked up trying to give me a late Valentine's Day gift. Well, that's a German for you. Everything must be perfect, even when you're giving a late gift. Nevertheless, the gesture was sweet, and I tried to keep the ring on all the time. It was a sweet gift, and I treasured it almost as much as the painting Austria was restoring now.

That painting was beyond precious to me. It broke my heart when I saw it slowly fade away, so I packed it away for safekeeping. I couldn't look at it anymore. Too many bittersweet memories were associated with that painting. I was beyond ecstatic when Germany said he'd ask Austria to restore it for me. I remember seeing Austria's paintings back when I worked for him as a child. He was a good artist, too. This thought made me smile, despite the tugging of yet another yawn on my lips. I tried singing some more to force it back down.

"Do you have a best friend too? It tickles in my tummy; he's so yummy, yummy…" I grinned at the song. It was almost perfect for me and Germany. He was my best friend, with whom I've had many adventures. We even saved the world, once! I had many good memories with Germany. I have some good memories with Romano too. He's like Germany. He cares for people; he just has a difficult time showing it.

Despite what people said about my brother, he was dear to me. I was so happy I got to see him after that scary tomato box adventure. Granted, he was too busy abhorring Germany to pay much attention to me, but that was okay. I loved my _fratello_. I didn't care about his attitude, his general ability to be annoying or hateful, or his obvious hatred for my best friend. Romano was my brother. Romano was precious to me, too.

I looked up from the speedometer, and let out a scream. Headlights in my direction! How did I stray this far off my side of the road? Panic set over, but no one would rescue me. No one could save me. I couldn't put up my white flag and surrender. I jerked the steering wheel as hard as I could to the side, screaming, and prayed…

_I don't want to die tonight!_

~:.:~^~:.:~

It was late in the night, according to the darkness swallowing the room. The house was warm and, for the most part, quiet. In another room, a brunette was just finishing up restoring the painting. To the left of that room, there was another one. The room was small and cozy, and still as a stone. There was a painting on the side; a child's drawing of a rabbit. All of a sudden, sheets rustled. The figure cloaked in them thrashed and trembled. Eventually the sheets simply slipped off the bed, revealing the blonde man underneath. This was Germany's room. Germany was having a nightmare.

The phone rang incessantly, a loud buzzing on his nightstand. Germany grabbed it, not pausing to even look at who was calling. He felt angry. Who would call him in the middle of the night? He got up, and slipped his feet into some house shoes. The voice on the other end he could barely understand. Germany was tempted to go back to bed. Outside, he heard police sirens drive by his house. He wiped his face and tried to make out the voice on the other end of the phone.

The words gradually became clearer. He could make out certain words. Italy. They were talking about Italy. That much he could understand. He sat there, as the person repeated again and again something about Italy. He sat down on the bed, wondering why he didn't just hang up. This was ridiculous. He could hear Austria in the other room, moving around. He was probably about to ask him who was talking on the phone.

He had no idea.

He had absolutely no idea who was calling.

He turned back to the caller, who was getting increasingly frustrated with him that he wasn't responding much to the call. He was still trying to figure out who exactly was calling, and what they were saying. It wasn't like they had an accent so thick he couldn't understand. He was speaking fluently and correctly. There was no static. The words were coming in loud and clear. Why couldn't he comprehend it? Germany frowned, confused. Gradually, more words became clear.

"Germ… Italy… I… over… not breathing… Sorry…"

_What? What's not breathing?_ Germany's eyes grew wide when he finally understood the message the man had been trying to say all this time.

"Germany! I'm so sorry, please forgive me! It was not my fault! I just found Italy… his car flipped over… He was asleep at the wheel… There's so much blood… He's not breathing. Please help me… I don't know what to do… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I think he's dead."


	5. Spare an Angel

_Disclaimer: Neither I nor the original writer of this own Hetalia._

_Author's note: Hey guys! Sorry, did I scare you? Good! -shot at- Okay okay, so here's the hint I promised for the first person to comment on the story. The winner is Jennifergarcia on wattpad. The hint: I never said Germany woke up. I said he had a nightmare, and got up. But he didn't necessarily... /wake up/. _

_As for the little Bible scene, indulge me. I just prefer its description of love over Webster's lame dictionary thing. 'Tender affections'. Pssh, sounds more like lust to me, but hey. XD _

_The song is called 'Spare an Angel' by Chris Rice. Feel free to suggest a different one, because the mood seems to have changed since I wrote it... . Niiiipppppaaaaaa! *throws safety scissors* __I'll tell you what. How could you guys feel about me doing another 'contest'? Whoever suggests the best song gets a hint at the next chapter. That work for you guys? _

_(If you think its lame, tell me. XD) Long author's note is long. :) BTW- Yes, those are the exact first few words from Wikipedia before they shut down. I'm awfully annoyed at the government's new 'laws'. It sounds like commies are taking over. I know they mean well, but they're being so stupid. And if that laws gets passed, guess what? It's illegal to know the end of this story. So... All my stories will be illegal, basically. I do not own Hetalia, government peeps. ^J^ You want to read now, da?)_

* * *

><p>I woke up, and looked around, lost in the chaos of my dreams had left me dazed with amnesia. Warm sheets snuggled me, urging me back to my dream. Beside me, the warm body of my brother, still asleep. The room was small, but had the feeling of openness, as if a giant window had opened behind the solid oak bed I was lying in. Slowly, I realized I was back in my own room. Wal-Mart bags lay on the nightstand next to me, next to a picture of my best friend and me enjoying the summer at my place. I yawned, and stretched, and got out of bed. It was time for breakfast. I was hungry.<p>

I grabbed the bags and waddled into the kitchen of my villa sleepily. I'd stayed up too late last night, and the ding on my Ferrari proved it. Last night I had fallen asleep at the wheel and ran into a ditch. Maybe I would go over to Germany's later and have that fixed. I always loved going to Germany's. I always had such fun there. I set the grocery bags on the counter, and checked the time: 11:33 am. It was almost time for lunch. My stomach complained almost as loudly as Romano at the slow pace at which I made my pasta, and I kept reminding her that I had to cook it slow or it wouldn't taste right.

Pretty soon, the grumblings of my stomach were joined by the grumblings of my brother. The only difference in the two was that Romano used more swear words than my stomach. I ignored them for the most part, aside from saying a '_Buon giorno, fratello_~ to my brother. He simply huffed and asked me when breakfast was going to be ready. I said the same thing I said to my stomach. I got pretty much the same answer from Romano, aside from the swearing. I simply smiled my sweet way, and returned to the spaghetti that was beginning to smell very nice. Its smell filled my villa, and even Romano found a tugging half-smile on his lips. It was impossible to sad when you had pasta!

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it seemed to be short, and the pasta was ready. We both sat down and ate, and for once, Romano was in a good mood. Romano and I had some pleasant conversation, and then went outside to enjoy the day. It was beautiful, the sun was shining, and it felt good. We sat outside and watched our people with fondness, in between dozing of course. Big meals always make us sleepy.

"Romano…" I said as we sat watching the people go by. Romano was watching someone off in the distance, and I immediately knew it was a beautiful girl. We were twins. It was easy to sense things like that. Some people called it 'twin telepathy', but I just knew my brother well enough to know when he spotted a pretty face. He reluctantly turned his eyes away. I knew he was deciding whether to go after the girl or to doze. Both choices were favorable.

"What is it, Italy?" Romano growled, turning his gaze to me.

"Do you think, at some point in the future, they could build a Wal-Mart closer to our house? The one in Germany is closing soon." I asked, turning to the sky. Overhead, clouds lazily crisscrossed the sky in no hurry to be anywhere. Romano huffed.

"I guess so, it's possible." He said.

"Good, because I got into an accident driving home last night and hurt Incendio."

"Oh well that's- WHAT? Feli, you-" He stood up and began cursing in every Italian curse he knew. We both loved that car. We both loved how beautifully painted and smooth it was, and we both loved the engine on it. Most of all, we both loved to floor it, and see just how fast it could go. Romano was flailing his arms as his curses got louder and louder. I was beginning to get a little freaked out.

"Romano, it's okay, we can get it fixed, and I was just so tired!" I tried to get a word in edgewise, and started to get really scared. He wasn't listening to me! I felt tears brimming in my eyes. "Romano! It wasn't my fault, really! It's only a bump, it's easy to fix, and I can get it for free. Germany's good with cars, and-" Biggest mistake ever mentioning Germany. If I thought Romano was mad before, I'd now see him insane. He completely blew his top. He grabbed my neck and flailed around, and I cried, and waved my mangled white flag. I didn't have the time to fix it from when Belarus attacked me.

And I cried. This continued for a few moments, until Romano must have exhausted himself.

"F-Fine," he cursed a couple more times, stumbling from me. "G-go see him, see if I care." He growled, and started to walk away.

"I'm sorry, _fratello_." I whimpered, and turned to the Ferrari we'd named together, Incendio, and got into the driver's seat. The faster the car was fixed, the faster that Romano could be happy again, and we could go lounging on the chairs again. I loved hanging out with Romano, but he was almost always angry with me. It made me sad. I turned on the radio and was depressed to find out that they no longer played holiday tunes, as it was, after all, the day after Christmas. Instead, a new song was playing. It sounded pretty, so I wrote down the song name and artist for future reference. I could look it up on YouTube later.

The warm climate gradually sloped into a cooler atmosphere, and I soon found myself on a snow-laden road. I made a mental note to grab my coat when I got to Germany's. The music had slipped over to a German music, and I was glad to have Germany as my friend. Sometimes I could understand the words to the music. I fought the urge to bang my head while driving. I didn't want another accident.

I pulled into the driveway of the house, and turned my car off. As I was reaching for my coat, I noticed something strange. There was something definitely off about Germany's house today. Was he upset about something? Shivering from more fear than cold, I wondered how I could have made him mad. We restored our relationship last night, didn't we? I felt for the tomato ring on my hand. It had not been a dream. Why was Germany so upset?

I cautiously knocked on the doorbell. The footsteps were not Germany's. I was greeted by Austria, who seemed to be in a decent mood. He invited me inside, and, remembering it was Germany's house, I took off my shoes and left my coat at the door. The house felt chilly. I wished I had my coat back on.

"Italy, I'm glad you've come." Well, that was a first, coming from Austria. I turned to him, a little afraid of his strange behavior. Normally he was condescending. I could sense the same mindset coming from him as I did from my _fratello_. They didn't want me to hang out with Germany so much. I followed him as he beckoned me to sit on the couch. He was excited about something.

I started to get excited too, feeding off the energy. The house's energy seemed to want to suppress it, but this was the first time I'd seen Austria excited about something. It made me curious to see what he could be excited about, and then I remembered: The painting! Was he finished with it already? I wanted to leap for joy! Now, if only Germany was here, everything would be perfect. Well, besides the dent in the car, but that could wait. The painting was finished!

Austria came back into the room with the back of the painting to me. I was right! Austria had a large grin on his face. I noticed the bags under his eyes. He worked so hard on this! I could hardly contain my joy. He held the painting with its back to me for what seemed like ages. I wanted to see it so badly, I could hardly breathe! I silently begged him to turn the painting. I heard Germany moving upstairs. He could see it too! Was that what Austria was waiting on?

"I finished it. Now, look!" He turned the painting, and I wanted to scream. It was not a scream of joy. It was not a gasp of delight. My eyes lost their ecstatic sparkle. My entire body deflated. The cry was of someone keening with sorrow. The sob was mine, and instantly my entire world crashed to the ground. My face was red and swollen from tears.

The painting was ruined!

Don't get me wrong, Austria did a wonderful job with my precious painting. The colors were back to their original brilliance. The maid I was looked as cute and sleepy as ever. It was obvious the painting had been worked on thoroughly. My love, the one who painted this, his name was newly inked and could be seen clearly. The painting itself was beautiful. The thing that made it special, the one thing that made this my prized possession, was gone. I clutched the painting to my chest, desperately hoping for the aura that was like wine, bittersweet. The love and tenderness was gone from the painting. I couldn't feel a thing.

My last tie to my friend, my love, was gone.

I fell on that couch and cried, my heart broken. It felt like I was losing him all over again, and I was losing him forever. The one thing I had left where I still felt him there was gone. Austria seemed distraught as well. He tried in vain to comfort me, but he would never be able to. My heart was torn in half. It felt as if someone had taken a spoon and cut it out.

"Italy, what's wrong? Don't you like it? Italy! Are you okay?" Austria asked, trying to shake my sorrow away from my body. He couldn't. I could not be roused enough to answer him, only enough to whisper a wish on a deaf star.

"Holy Roman Empire…" I whimpered. "Don't leave me…"

It had been so long since either of us had spoken his name out loud. Ever since I saw his body, mortally injured by Austria and France themselves, and I was dragged away, crying my heart out, we made a silent pact. Holy Rome was dead. There was no need to mention his name out loud, no matter how much I missed him, no matter how many nights I cried myself to sleep after Hungary informed me he was dead. I was in too much pain to even attend his funeral, if they even had one. I couldn't remember. All I remembered was many days and nights in my room, not being able to eat or sleep. All I could see was his cold hand, dripping with blood, splayed out on the cold stones.

But I never said his name out loud again. He was 'a friend', or 'my love'. Either one could not describe my attachment to him. Words cannot explain it. It was more than words of any language could ever say. The painting had been my only comfort at the time, besides my dreams. He was always there when I had the painting. He was always there when I dreamt. I could feel his hand in mine, even when I grew older, and I made the decision that he was my, as Japan called it once, 'unmei no hito', my fated person. He was my soul-mate.

I remembered, in my dazed ramblings on the couch, Austria trying to bring me back to life, when I had baked cookies with my brother, Romano. We decided to give them to those we cared about, after we had plenty for ourselves, of course. He made only two bags, and one of them was for me, I remember with a touch of fondness. I made 4, and one was for him. One was for Austria. He was my master, after all. We had some good times to remember, yes, there were times I absolutely adored him. I gave one of them to Hungary. She was my best friend when I was a maid. I looked at the last batch of cookies, and I remember Romano asking me who they were for, and then I remembered. My friend, my love, was dead.

"No one…" I said out loud. "No one, Romano, you can have them. Please take them!" I screamed out loud, and then I heard a voice that brought me back to the present. It was a strong voice, with a thick accent that had become so dear to me. It was accompanied by the distinct sound of someone charging towards me. I wasn't sure if I was insane or it was true. Holy Rome was back?

My eyes shot open. Germany pulled Austria off me, demanding explanation. I just lay down on the couch and cried. I would not be consoled! The painting was ruined! My last tie to Holy Roman Empire… My dear Holy Roman Empire… Santo Roma! I felt hands on my shoulders. They were Germany's hands, strong enough to break me in half. He held me gently, I felt the warmth of his chest to my face, and I tried to struggle back to the present. I was stuck in between. My body was on autopilot. It was doing nothing. I barely heard myself breathe. I wasn't crying anymore. I heard Germany and Austria talking.

Austria said nothing of Holy Rome. He simply said I had bad memories associated with the painting. Germany didn't let me go. He was still trying to bring me back. I was trying to get back. It wasn't working. I couldn't leave Holy Rome all alone in my memories… I couldn't bear to live in a world without him, not again, not completely. I felt a weird sort of disappointment when I felt Germany take the painting from my hands, and look at it. All he did was ask if the painting was of me when I was younger. I didn't hear Austria's response. I was losing my battle with reality. I felt something tug on my curl. That was it. I was gone.

Everything became darkness, welcoming darkness. There was no Germany asking if I was all right. There was no Austria struggling to wake me up. There was no Holy Roman Empire, pushing me back to the real world, the one place I did not want to go. There was no me to wake up. All that existed was black. All that existed was black, and the happiness of nonexistence.

~:.:~^~:.:~

Hungary was beside me. The world was bright again. I was awake, I was existing. I moved my hands, rubbed them on my face. I existed. I exist. I turned to Hungary, who was dabbing my head affectionately. Is this what my mom would do if I was human?

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently. I looked around, confused at where I was. I didn't know how to answer the question. I didn't feel anything.

"Numb." I replied, unsure what else to say. I felt like every emotion had been drained out of my body. I felt so tired. "Where am I?" I asked, looking around.

"You're at my house, in my living room, on the couch." Germany said, entering the room.

"Hey." I greeted lamely, trying to smile at him. A tug of happiness made the world come back a little clearer. With each breath, in and out, the fog around me seemed to lift a little. I felt a little less tired.

"Guten Morgen." He replied in German. He squatted down next to me. "How are you feeling?" he asked. I shrugged. I still had no idea.

"He's still a little out of it." Hungary explained, and got up. "I'm going to get Italy some food. It will make her feel a lot better."

"Her?" Germany raised an eyebrow. "Really, Hungary, I think I should. You've stayed up all night watching him." I immediately felt a surge of guilt. Hungary went through all that trouble for me? Hungary waved him off.

"I'm fine." She said, and walked into the kitchen.

"Italy… Would you mind if I… asked you something?" Germany asked. I turned to him, and shook my head. He could question me all day and night if he wanted to. I just didn't want him to leave. I didn't want to be alone.

"Why were you crying yesterday? I know sometimes you have fits of joy, but… you sounded like someone was killing you. I ran downstairs thinking a nightmare had come true or something…" He rubbed his head. The faint smell of alcohol was on his breath. He'd been drinking beer. He did that a lot. I tried to trace back to yesterday. I was crying because Holy Rome was gone. He had been gone for a long time. I was crying because of that. Why was I crying? I thought I'd moved on, it was so long ago. For some reason, someone inside me told me to not answer with that. Germany would think I was insane or corny…

"I didn't like how the painting turned out…" I mumbled at last. I noticed his eyebrow twitch. It did that sometimes when he was annoyed. Why was he mad at me? Did he really know the truth? Could he see past it? No, there was something even he could not see, a secret I kept closer than Holy Rome.

"All this… over a painting?" he asked. "I know it was precious to you, but these things can be replaced. You can't. I seriously thought you were dead, Italy." He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the stain in the carpet. I briefly wondered why that hadn't been cleaned up yet. What came more forcefully was- why did he think I was dead?

Was my reaction that bad?

"I'm fine, Germany," I insisted, "but it makes me happy to know you care so much." I smiled at him. He smiled back, "It lets me know you love me." He turned away, looking annoyed with me.

"Don't say such embarrassing things." He scolded. I smiled wider. My best friend was so predictable. I tried to sit up, and ended up leaning heavily on the armrest. "Thought I'd let you know that I fixed the dent in your car… where'd you get it?" he asked.

"I had a little accident." I admitted. He and I both knew I wasn't the best driver. His eyes widened for some reason.

"What kind of accident?" he questioned.

"Just a little one- I ran off the road into a ditch. The car made a rock bounce up and hit it." I saw him visibly relax. Why did he get so worked up when I told him I had an accident?

"Italy… I have just one more question…" he said, and I nodded. We could move on and talk about more important things. I was fine! I could barely even remember why I had freaked out so much yesterday. He looked me in the eye. He demanded the truth.

"Italy, who is Holy Roman Empire?" he asked. I was taken aback. I never have talked about Holy Rome before. Where do I begin? He was a friend? He was the one I loved? He was the reason I was not very afraid of Germany when I was imprisoned by him? He was the reason I am the way I am?

"He was a boy who harassed Italy." Hungary said, coming back in with some Wurst. She sounded cross. I reminded myself to thank her later, although that's not exactly how I would have put it… Yes, in the beginning, he scared me, but despite that, I learned about his gentle, caring nature. It was sort of a 'beauty and the beast' type of thing between us. "Now if you'll excuse us, Italy is probably still very tired. I'm going to feed him and let him sleep, and I suggest you do the same." Mother hen Hungary swatted Germany out of the room like a bothersome fly. I watched him go sadly. He could've stayed for a little bit.

"I'm sorry about that, Italy. Here, have some Wurst." She fed me as if I was an infant, and indeed, I did start to feel very tired, so I did what I naturally did all the time. I fell asleep.

~:.:~^~:.:~

Germany, for once, was doing something constructive on the internet. Inside the Google text box were 3 words. Germany felt like they had some sort of significance. Did he know this fellow who apparently picked on Italy when he was little? Germany couldn't remember. He couldn't remember much of anything about his past. He and Italy were about the same age, so it was possible…

Holy Roman Empire

He typed the three words in and clicked on the search button, ignoring Google's fancy new search for New Year's Day. There were about 9,790,000 entries. A little bit startled –why hadn't he heard of this country- he clicked on the first item, Wikipedia. Although sometimes this website was unreliable, with history, there wasn't a lot people could change. He could at least get a decent picture of what he was researching.

The **Holy Roman Empire** (HRE; German: Heoliges Römisches Reich (HRR)…

"Germany! I'm going home!" Italy burst into his room, and hugged him. Germany stiffened his shoulders and turned around… and he also turned the lights on.

"I hope you're not driving." Germany said, noticing Italy still seemed a little out of it. Italy shook his head vigorously, his hands never unwrapping from the hug on Germany's shoulder, which was a feat, considering Germany was much taller than Italy. To be exact, he was 8 centimeters or something taller than Italy.

"Austria's driving me home, and Hungary's coming too. She said she wanted to talk to me about something important, and I guess Austria felt bad about how the painting turned out." Italy said, and suddenly looked less cheerful. Germany sighed with relief. So he wasn't driving, at least. He wondered what the important thing Hungary wanted to talk to Italy about was. Was it about the country Italy had been screaming about when he'd rushed into the living room and found Austria shaking him on the couch?

Why had Italy gotten so upset? Did the boy do something horrible to him when he was little? He assumed that was it. Hungary had said that this 'Holy Roman empire' had harassed Italy when he was younger. Who could be mean to Italy? Sure he was annoying and clumsy, but he had good intentions… and was always smiling, which was why it unnerved him when Italy wasn't smiling now. Or at least, it wasn't a genuine smile.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Italy." He was getting too lost in thought. Italy had been saying something, but he didn't catch it. It was something about Austria's food. Italy was probably complaining that he hadn't had pasta in a few days. Germany decided to put his attention on Italy. He could think about his strange behavior later, but Italy was already starting to leave. Italy was walking towards the door, acting like a deflated balloon.

"I don't want to leave." Italy said suddenly. "When you're here, I don't feel so lonely." He said, and walked out of the room. Germany watched him leave, and felt a sudden headache. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what could have brought it on, and briefly saw Italy's shadow, but it looked different somehow, like he was wearing a fluffy dress or something. The shadow returned to normal a few seconds earlier.

"Have you said goodbye?" Austria asked, as if talking to a small child. Germany didn't hear Italy's reply. He turned back to his computer, and started scrolling down, just barely getting down to the strange country's flag, when a large headache consumed him. Forget it, this wasn't a headache, it was a full-blown migraine. That was strange, he didn't get those anymore. He turned off the lights and lay on his bed, waiting for them to end, just like he did when he was little.

He put the strange vision out of his mind, and forced himself to fall asleep.

~:.:~^~:.:~

"Hungary… I need to make a confession." I admitted awkwardly. We were sitting on my brother and my bed. I clasped my hands awkwardly. My room didn't seem as friendly now. My brother and Austria were outside, Austria no doubt waiting on Hungary. He would no doubt be waiting for a long time. I needed to talk to Hungary; I've needed to for a long time.

"What is it, Italy?" she asked, and took my hand. I squeezed it. I was scared. I didn't want to admit it to myself, my betrayal of myself and Holy Rome.

"Do you remember the pact I made with myself after…?" I trailed off. We both knew of the events surrounding Holy Rome's death. She nodded, remembering that bitter day when I decided to give up.

"Yes. You gave up ever falling in love again, and to prevent yourself from falling in love, you decided to make it impossible for anyone to fall in love with you." Hungary said, repeating basically what I'd said that day in the room of my childhood, when I put away my maid outfit for the last time, and replaced it with pants. I look at myself now, still wearing pants, now a simple wife beater on my chest. My mouth went dry. I couldn't speak.

"I think…" I croaked. "I broke that promise." I gasped out, as tears started running down my cheeks. Hungary took me into her arms and comforted me. It took me a solid hour to compose myself. "But at the same time, I'm so scared of myself. Hungary, is it possible that I'm just using him as a replacement for Holy Roman Empire? I mean, it's possible, right? They look so much alike…" I switched my gaze from Hungary back down to my hands, clenching her hand so hard I'm afraid I might have broken it had I actually been strong.

"Italy, look me in the eye." Hungary pulled my face towards her, and searched my brown and honey-colored eyes. They greatly resembled Romano's, except they were a lighter shade. She studied my face, looking very serious, and I felt scared. What was she doing? What did this have to do with betraying the one I love?

"You're not betraying the Holy Roman Empire by loving Germany. It's the opposite. Holy Rome wanted you to be happy. Why do you think he was fighting? He was fighting to protect us. He was fighting to protect you. All he wanted was you to be happy in any way possible. I don't think he cares if you love someone else, as long as you can smile. Can you be happy with Germany?" Hungary asked me. I nodded slowly.

"Then he can be happy too." Hungary said.

"But how do I know it's really Germany I love?" I asked. Hungary grinned at me, and wiped away the last tear from my eyes.

"I can see it in your eyes, Italy. When you speak, I can see him in your eyes. He's all you can think about. I can tell you for a fact right now that you would die for him. That is love, Italy, not replacement, dear." I smiled, and hugged her. "And I think you need to inform him."

Suddenly, something clicked in my head when I remembered the pact. I was breaking it willingly… but what about the last part? Where I made it impossible for someone to love me… Could he look past that?

"Hungary, I just realized that I have a very large problem." I said. I felt like such an idiot as I think about how many chances I had to tell him about my… dilemma. I was so stupid, how could I have forgotten about that?

"What's the problem, Italy? You love him, I think he loves you, you both have steady jobs and money, and homes, and there are no freaky in-laws to deal with, well, besides Prussia. What could possibly be wrong?" Hungary growled, obviously angry at me. She seemed to have forgotten what the last part meant, and I decided to remind her. I looked down pointedly at my chest. She followed my gaze.

"Oh… that." Hungary said, following my gaze and remembering. "Well, I mean, if he really loves you, then I guess he'd just have to accept that. It's you he loves, not your body." Hungary said.

"But what if he thinks that I'm different when I tell him? I mean, I did lie to him, after all…" I said.

"Well, there was once where I found a book called the Bible, and I found an excellent passage that describes love in the most perfect way possible." Hungary said.

"I've got a Bible. Where is it?" I asked, flipping open the huge book.

"1st Corinthians 13:4-7." Hungary replied, and I began to flip the pages that were larger than I were. It took me a minute, because I hadn't opened it in a while, but then I discovered the miracle of a table of content. Granted, it was in Latin, but I could understand it. For Hungary's sake, I translated it into English for her, and began to read.

"Love is patient, love is kind." I began. "It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Loves does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." I looked down at verse 8, which began "Love never fails." I sat down, and began to think. "He… really does love me." I said. "But with the lie I told him…"

"Well, you can change that can't you, Italy?" Hungary said. "A lie can always be defeated by truth…" She got up. "What I think you should do is tell him the truth. Invite him out to dinner and explain… and see where it goes from there. If he loves you, he'll forgive you." She squeezed my hand and left. I reached for the phone. I was going to tell Germany the truth as soon as possible- tonight.


	6. Safe

_Britt Nicole's song 'Safe' pretty much encompasses the entire story. Well here it is, everyone, the unvealing of Italy's secret which people on this site and the other one have guessed. (I give waaaay too many hints...) Speaking of hints, there will be a hint for the first person who comments/reviews on this chapter, like usual. Anyways, just thought I'd warn you, Romano is cursing frequently in Italian. I actually had an Italian exchange student help me with some of the translations, so they're accurate. (Unless she was kidding with me...) (THANK YOU, CARLOTTA!)_

_So Austria finally explains some of the pact to the rest of everyone. I don't know what else to say, except... THANKS FOR COMMENTS/REVIEWS AND VOTES EVERYONE! :D_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya._

* * *

><p>"Dannazione, Italy!" Romano swore about banged his fist on the kitchen door in frustration. "Che l'inamorato pazzo sta per dire la verità!" He yelled. He had just heard the entire conversation, and it infuriated him. How could Italy be so stupid? He crossly sat down, biting his lip.<p>

"English, please." Austria lifted an eyebrow. Romano turned to him in shock, and let out another curse in Italian. He'd forgotten Austria was there too. They'd both been listening in to the conversation. All Austria wanted to know was Italy's thoughts of Germany. From what Romano understood, Italy just deeply missed Holy Rome, and was concerned about Germany as a replacement.

"So what are they saying?" Austria asked simply, and sipped at an instant tea he'd made while he waited for Hungary. Romano growled, and stood up. While he did not particularly like Austria, he didn't like any men, for that matter, they did share a common goal. Italy was spending way too much time with Germany. This had to be stopped. In a way, he and Austria had become partners with a common goal: separate Italy and Germany.

"Italy's cried for a dannazione hour, give me some time." Romano swore. "Alright, in a nutshell, Hungary is convincing Italy to tell Germany the truth about…" he led off there. There was something about a 'pact'.

"It's about the pact isn't it? Oh for the love, she's broken it." Austria growled.

"What pact? What are you talking about?" Romano yelled, and grabbed Austria by his shirt. "Tell me _now _you old man, or I'll send my entire mafia against you so fast you couldn't raise a white flag."

"Force is not necessary, and unbecoming as a gentleman. I'm sure the women you like to pick up do not appreciate it." Austria countered. Before Romano could sock him in the face, he added, "I'll tell you." Romano put him down, and beckoned him to sit. He sensed it would be a long explanation, and they had all the time in the world. Italy would cry for another solid hour, and that part was certain. There was no telling how long it would last. They could be stuck here the rest of the day. Austria sat down and took a delicate sip of his tea. Oh for the love, he was worse than that prissy Britain _bastardo…_

"Romano, you do remember Italy was under my rule, correct?" He nodded crossly, a fact he'd rather not remember. "Well, while Italy was working as a maid, Holy Roman Empire lived at my house, as well. At first, Italy was absolutely terrified of Holy Roman Empire, until one day, Holy Roman Empire finally got the courage to talk to Italy. At the time, Holy Roman Empire had the largest crush on Italy that could ever be managed, but he was also very shy and a little stupid." Austria sighed.

"But how does this relate to the pact? What is the (colorful phrase here) pact!" Romano demanded, already bored. Yeah, so some creep had a crush on Italy, what did that have to do with anything?

"Be quiet and let me finish. They began to get closer and closer, until it was evident that Italy shared the same feelings for the Holy Roman Empire. Well, then things began to get very turbulent around the house. People were lashing out at Hungary, Holy Roman Empire, and me consistently. When someone attacked Italy while they were out picking those Felicia flowers they like so much, he'd had enough. He struck back. He ended up leaving for war. Before he did, he confessed his love to Italy, and Italy responded with the same affection, but for some reason, did not join him. Before he left, Holy Roman Empire painting a portrait of Italy when they were asleep-"

"Would you stop referring to Italy as an 'it'? Italy has a gender." Romano growled.

"Oh really? Because of that pact, it's a little hard to tell." Austria sniffed. Romano was about to grab his neck and choke him, but Austria continued with the tragic love story between Holy Roman Empire and Italy.

"Anyways, Italy was asleep when Holy Roman Empire painted that portrait. He carried that portrait with him to battle, so he would never forget the reason why he was fighting. That painting was all Italy would ever hold of him again. He never came back from that battle. I ended up striking him down myself… It was… complicated." Austria turned away, and for a second Romano noticed something very strange on the other country's face- guilt. "Italy saw me strike him down. Hungary led her away while I dragged the body over to Prussia. Prussia somehow managed to revive the country, for that I should be grateful." Austria sighed. "But when Holy Rome woke up again, he wasn't Holy Rome anymore. He had lost all of his memories, and acquired a new identity. You know him quite well, in fact." Austria said, looking into Romano's eyes. Romano senses anger in his eyes.

"Um, no, I don't know anyone-" he was confused, and now a little frightened, but at the same time, excited. Holy Roman Empire would just go sweep Italy off her little feet and they'd be done with that _patata bastardo_ forever.

"It's Germany." Austria said. Romano was taken aback, at loss for words. He was absolutely shocked. There was no way. After all this time…?

"But Italy did not know. She just assumed that the Holy Roman Empire was dead." Austria's eyes clouded. It had been a painful time for him too. "She just… wasted away. She wouldn't eat, she barely slept, and when she did, she cried out in her sleep like she was having a horrible nightmare. There was nothing I could do to bring her back. Hungary and I tried everything to rouse her again, but there was no response. Finally, we come to the pact. She had gotten over the worst part, and had started eating again. When she had enough strength to speak, she told us what she was going to do about Holy Roman Empire's death. She told us she would never love again, for one, and make it impossible for anyone to love her, for two." Austria said.

"But that doesn't make sense!" Romano declared, standing up. "First of all, all this over a childhood crush, and second, how in the world could she prevent-" he sat down, and buried his face in his hands. "Is that why-"

"She cut her hair short and wore guy's clothes. In essence, she became a guy." Austria said. "And to this day, only Hungary, you and I know the truth behind Italy… the fact that Italy's actually a girl…" he said.

"She's lied to everyone… For the sake of some country that doesn't remember her?" Romano growled. Italy was such an _idiot_. Did she really think Germany wouldn't know? He stood up again, and punched a pillow, remembering Italy's sadness after seeing his bloody knuckles after punching through a wall the other day. "What a fool! What an empty-headed, pea-brained, _dannazione stolto_!" he yelled. He would never understand love. It led people to do such-

"The sadder part is that she has no idea that Germany is the Holy Roman Empire." Austria said. "She had no idea this entire time, and as a result, has been lying to him this entire time. I would've been fine with her had she not have lied this entire time. Germany's smitten with her, and he doesn't even know her gender!" Austria rose up, yelling angrily. Romano was taken aback. Austria cared about Germany this much…?

"That's right, she's lied to him. She probably thinks that he'll just go along with it, 'oh hey you're a girl well look here you've got boobs and everything'! No way, he'd hate her… He'd never forgive her… Italy's just let it go on for too long." Romano bit his lip. "He's going to hurt her. I can't bear it when someone hurts her. I knew he'd hurt her from the beginning. I hated him. I could see it in his eyes. He couldn't tolerate Italy." Romano growled.

"Then we really do have the same goal." Austria said, and calmly took another sip from his hot drink. Romano glared at him dangerously. Austria had better choose his words carefully. "We don't want those closest to us to get hurt. Let's state the facts here and now. Italy is a liar. They'll both end up getting very hurt over this… unless."

"Unless what?" Romano growled. There was a way to save his precious_ sorella_ from getting hurt? For that, he'd do anything- even help Austria.

"Unless… we can work together and separate them slowly, step by step… Like they were never friends at all." Austria said simply, as if they were talking about pasta recipes instead of breaking up Italy's close relationship with that _patata bastardo…_ Romano nodded.

"And how do we do that?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. He was definitely in on this 'plan'.

"Well, we just keep them apart." Austria said.

"… And how do we do that?" If Italy was the deciding factor in the plans, they'd spend their entire lives at Germany's house. Italy adored him… Much to Romano's hatred.

"Well, what does Italy like to do?" Austria asked. Romano thought for a minute. Ah _merda_… he had no idea. He paused, thinking it over. What was Italy always doing?

"Um… eat…" he paused. "And hang out with Germany…" he finished lamely. He felt like an idiot. All this time he'd spent with Italy, and he still didn't know a thing about his sister… Austria did a face-palm, and then took an irritated sip from his hot drink.

"Well, that's your assignment. Hang out with Italy, find out what she likes to do, and do that with her. Just keep her busy. I can take care of Germany." Austria said confidently. "He likes to drink, clean, and read, for starters." It sounded like he was bragging. Romano hated it when other countries bragged about being better than him. He stopped himself from beating Austria to a pulp when an idea occurred to him.

"Get me some blackmail of him really drunk and you've got a deal." He offered his hand. Austria stared at it, and back at Romano quizzically.

"Why do you want to see Germany drunk?" Austria questioned suspiciously.

"For my own sick amusement, that's why." Romano said with a prideful smile.

"You've got a deal." Austria took his hand and they shook on it.

Austria had just made a deal with the devil… and his mafia.

~:.:~^~:.:~ (Feels like Today- Rascal Flatts)

I was immensely confused. Why hadn't Germany called me? It'd been a week, no, over a week; it had been 8 whole days! Didn't he like me anymore? I've tried to call him countless times, but he never answers. His phone is always off. Why is he being this cold? I would go over to his house, but Incendio is still in Germany's garage, and Romano has been too busy in his car to go pick it up for us.

Don't get me wrong, I have absolutely no complaints about my brother. He has been nothing but kind to me ever since that episode at Germany's house. He always wants to hang out with me. Is that why Germany was acting so strangely? Was he scared by my rush of emotions? I still can't remember why I was so upset in the first place, and I can't look at the painting and figure it out. The painting is at Germany's house too. I lean over from my bed and check my phone for messages for the fifth time that minute.

Why doesn't he talk to me anymore? When did I make him so angry? I heard a crinkling sound and turned to the edge of the bed. My brother, my wonderful brother, had decided that, because of my decision to tell Germany the truth, he would give me a present. It turned out to be a dress. He seemed excited to get to buy a dress for his sister for the first time. Being Italian, we both had good taste, so I couldn't complain. I just didn't want to wear it. It would feel so strange, after wearing pants most of my life. I had looked at it earlier, it was a beautiful thing.

"Italy!" Ah, there was my brother now. I turned, and smiled. He was being so pleasant now. Had Austria coached him in being a gentleman? I hugged him tightly, and I felt him all but go dead. My brother was not as huggable as I was, but I was set on changing that! After I was done with him, he would be a plush toy, the most huggable person ever to walk the earth, besides me of course.

"Ve~ _Fratello_~ did you get everything you wanted in Wal-Mart?" I asked, not letting go of his waste.

"I-I did… let go, Italy." He said forcefully. I sighed, and let him go. At least he didn't curse any more. He visibly relaxed. "So what were you up to while I was gone?" he asked. I knew he meant 'did you talk to Germany'.

"I was admiring the dress you got me." I said. It wasn't a lie, I did really like it. "It's just… It feels so weird after so long, to wear a dress." I admitted.

"Well, it's what you would normally wear if you didn't act like a transvestite about 3 quarters of your life." He pointed out. I blushed from embarrassment. He didn't have to say it like that… I took it out of the paper again.

"Can… I wear it now?" I asked tentatively. Romano vigorously nodded.

"I want to see my sister wearing a dress." He stood there, and I stared back at him pointedly. He laughed. I loved it when he laughed, it was a beautiful sound. "Oh yeah, I forgot, I can't treat you like a guy anymore." He left the room, and I awkwardly started putting the dress on. It felt like I had nothing on my legs at all, and I fidgeted with the skirt. It was a weird feeling, not wearing pants. I fumbled with the zipper, and found it near impossible. Luckily, I had a savior, a fellow female, come in at the exact moment I was about to rip the dress.

"Let me help you with that!" Hungary declared, and easily zipped it up. I turned, and hugged her warmly. We'd rekindled an old friendship after I confessed about the pact.

"So…" she had a mischievous gleam in her eye, "Have you talked to Germany? Has he confessed his love?" she said with great dramatics. I frowned, and stared at my phone. The little button that told me if I had a call was not flashing. I had no calls. I looked down at my feet.

"I haven't been able to contact him." I admitted. Hungary frowned as well. "He's always got his phone off…" I whimpered.

"And to think, I brought over something I found in mine and Austria's old things to help celebrate your newfound love…" Hungary sighed. I perked up a little.

"What is it?" I asked. She pulled something from behind her. At first I couldn't figure out what it was. It was two beautiful shades of green- both mint and pine. The material was thin enough to be worn in the summer, but sturdy and unrevealing. I noticed it had a white apron with a pocket large enough to store a small painting. It was adorned with beautiful lace frills on what I believed to be sleeves. I took it from her hands.

"It's your old maid outfit. I modified it a little so you can wear it now, since I figured you didn't have a lot of girl clothing." Hungary said. I smiled. She was so thoughtful! "Now, turn around so I can see you in that dress!" she declared. I nodded, and began to spin around. 'Oohs' and 'Aahs' came from both of us when we learned just how easily the skirt could spin, and flutter in the air. The dress was a little big around my chest, but then again, I did have small chest area, and by small, I mean practically non-existent. That was okay, because here in Italy, we have a lot of tailors. We are a fashionable people.

Suddenly, Hungary gasped in shock. "Italy! What is that on your shoulder?" she gasped. It scared me so badly I jumped while I was in the process of spinning, and dizzily crumbled to the ground. It took me a minute to get my bearings. When I did, I looked at my shoulder, and sighed. There was nothing there, on either shoulder. Hungary sat down with me.

"Italy, I'm talking about the scar." She said. I craned my neck, and indeed, there was an ugly scar there on my left shoulder. I winced. That was not one I wanted to remember. I turned away.

"We all have our dark sides, remember? That is the one thing I don't like about being a country. Our leaders control us, and there's no chance of rising above that. I do believe you remember when Germany was in the Nazi state, right? Well, towards the end of the war, the Nazi side was manipulated into attacking me and my brother, because we'd surrendered to the allies. He's got laws up now to protect him from that kind of control." I quickly added in that part. It was true, after all.

"Italy…" She said, fingering the scar. "I do remember. He sunk two of your ships, right?" she asked. I nodded. It was something like that. He was just trying to scare me into coming back into the war, or rather, his boss was. It didn't work. He was defeated soon after, and then Japan was our last hope. I shook my head. I didn't want to remember that war. It was a horrible war. It was the most terrible thing I've been involved in.

"Let's move on to another subject." I suggested. She nodded, and I felt relieved. Suddenly, I remembered something. "Hungary, you still live with Austria, right?" She nodded. "Well, Austria's with Germany a lot. What're they doing? Why hasn't he contacted me?" I asked. Surely Hungary knew /something/ about Germany's strange behavior. She looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Austria's been trying to get close to Germany, similar to what your brother was talking about. He and Romano were having a talk around the time you and I were talking, and they both must have realized the same thing. They both really didn't spend enough time with their siblings. So Austria's been spending a lot of time with him, whenever he can. Unfortunately, it isn't a lot. Germany's been having nasty headaches lately. According to Prussia, he used to have these a lot as a child." Hungary explained.

"Well, why didn't they tell me about Germany's headaches?" I demanded, standing up. "I do know how to get rid of those. Come on, Hungary, we're going to Germany's." We could take Hungary's car. It was perfect! I could finally get out of the house! I had been waiting for that chance for a while. I was getting a little stir crazy, and now Hungary was my way out! Not only that, we were going to see Germany! Could life get any better?

Romano came in, with a steaming plate. My mouth watered when I saw what was in the plate. It was pasta, home-made by my brother. He was smiling, proud of his accomplishment. His pasta was always delicious and fresh, because he was the agricultural part of our country. I loved his pasta. I got up, and followed him into the dining room and kitchen of our home. I turned to Hungary, but she already seemed to know what I was going to ask.

"No thanks, Italy. I've already eaten." She was heading out.

"Hungary, please stay." I sighed. How was I going to go out _now_?

"I'll be back after lunch." She promised, and I nodded. She left out the door, and I sat down at the dining table, where my _fratello _already had some wine, cheese, and grapes. We were eating fancy today. I smiled. _Fratello _had something special planned today, and when I saw the football under the table, I knew what it was. Excited, I dug in. A great lunch and football afterwards was like the perfect day. I might as well mention that football is what we call soccer; it will help clear up a lot of confusion. America is always calling the thing a 'soccer' ball, and he has his own version of football, which is very violent. Today, my brother and I were playing Italian football.

What could be better?

~:.:~^~:.:~

What could be better?

Germany was at work, the house was quiet, and his plan was working successfully.

Austria took another sip of his tea, surrounding by an aura of bliss. He was so happy! He was sitting on the couch, enjoying the quiet. Everything was going well. Germany had been very busy at work lately, and he barely had any time for that beer after work. He'd also been having a lot of those headaches recently, which bugged Austria, but he took it for what it was: something positive that could be used in his and Romano's favor. Austria had to loyally tote Advil up to Germany once in a while, but other than that, all was well.

There was no way Germany could contact Italy when he had a headache. He even complained of hallucinations of a small girl in a dress. It was in those times Germany wouldn't leave his room for anything, even food, or his older brother rummaging through his strange paraphernalia. Austria felt concern for Germany during those times, but Prussia assured him that Germany would stop having them soon. He used to have them all the time after the… incident. Although it was normally unwise to trust Prussia, Austria remembered that Prussia had technically 'raised' Germany, so he ought to know at least a couple things about his brother.

Austria felt a surge of triumph. Romano must have had some success as well, because Germany didn't receive one call from Italy, or at least, one that he knew of. When Germany's headaches started occurring, he decided to take Germany's phone, telling him that it was stress from work, and that he shouldn't work from home. He protested a little at first, after all, Italy used that number too, but Austria had come up with a clever lie: He'd answer Germany's phone and inform him if Italy called. Austria kept it off all the time. The boss knew Germany's other phone number, and could contact him through that, and Austria kept to his word about that: if the boss called, Austria informed him in between his headaches.

Germany was lucky that so far, the boss wasn't even aware of the headaches or hallucinations. They'd never really occurred while he was working. He wouldn't be able to work if he did. He would probably see his employees as little girls in maid outfits running around his office. Austria was getting a little worried about these hallucinations. It sounded as if he was slowly, unconsciously remembering his old life, before he was Germany. If that happened, he would realize Italy's secret, and either become much, much closer to that useless brat, or hurt them with his intense hatred of friends keeping secrets from him, which would make Austria and Romano's plan go to waste. That would not go over well with Romano. They both hated working towards something and having it fail. They both hated working in general.

But if Germany remembered being the Holy Roman Empire, would it really be that bad? He did have some good memories from that era, and that was always good to remember who you were, to compare it to who you are now. As for the good memories, he'd remember something happy beyond when Italy walked into his life, or whenever he drank beer. He had some good memories with Italy back when he was young, but he had other good memories as well. He conquered so many countries, he grew so strong for being someone so young, and there must have been some great times with his brother somewhere. Austria smiled. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all. Granted, it might make things a little awkward between him and Italy, considering Italy had no idea that Germany was once the Holy Roman Empire, but that was part of the plan, right? They were going to be split up anyways, if Austria and Romano had anything to say about it.

Austria stood up. He was hungry. He set his tea down and walked into the kitchen, set on making some snacks for himself. Normally he'd ask Germany to do it, but lately he'd taken a preference to his own cooking. Germany's cooking just didn't have the right flavor that Austria did, and he used way too many potatoes in his cooking. It wasn't that Austria didn't like potatoes, it was just… Germany's use of potatoes could only be described in one word: Overkill. Austria sighed, and began pulling out the necessary ingredients for his snack.

As he worked on kneading the dough, his thoughts strayed beyond his sandwich. What would he do when the headaches ceased? Would he get to know his brother better, as Romano was probably doing with Italy? Their relationship was different compared to his and Germany's. He definitely recognized a lot of jealousy in Romano's cold demeanor towards Italy. What he also recognized, despite the jealousy, which was uncommon due to the previously stated emotion, was a lot of love. Italy positively adored her brother, and Romano, despite his gruffness, felt the same about her. It was a strange relationship.

_What would we even do together? Romano has it easy; he can probably just play around and hang out with Italy all day. At least they can play football. Germany and I don't have that much in common; we don't even look alike…_

Austria thought as he carefully placed what he wanted on the sandwich into the dough, and put it all in the oven. He sat down at the piano in the corner. In the least, he could compose some music while he waited. Playing music calmed his thoughts. He could find something to do with his brother that they could do together. If he was desperate, they could work together to finish a puzzle. Germany was a perfectionist, and could easily tell which piece went where by looking at it. Austria, however, was not that skilled.

Austria's fingers roamed the piano and soon found a melody that he enjoyed playing, 'Ode to Joy', by Ludwig Van Beethoven. He didn't care what Germany said, Beethoven and Mozart were obviously from Austria. There was no way an unrefined gentleman like him could ever create such fine works of art! Well, at the same time, Italy had painted excellently, and she was… Well… she was… Italy. He guessed that artsy people did come in all shapes and sizes but… Beethoven was Austrian. There was no arguing that point! Germany didn't know what he was talking about; he couldn't even remember that era! That was back in the Holy Roman Empire days! Beethoven was definitely Austrian.

He shook his head. He wanted to be happy right now, and that meant no brooding over arguments that had lasted for centuries. He shook his head. He was happy. He checked his watch that Germany had given him for some birthday or appreciation day or something, and gasped. A lot of time had passed since he first sat down at that piano! His sandwich was almost ready!

Austria got up and stretched. He had hunched over that piano and time had flown like the wind. He felt stiff for sitting like that so long, and silently scolded himself. How many times had he corrected himself for hunching over? He was a refined gentleman, and gentlemen did not hunch over. They walked through life with their shoulders back, chests puffed, and heads held high! He walked into the kitchen, his stomach grumbling from smelling the delicious aroma of the sandwich.

Austria pulled the sandwich out carefully with a kitchen utensil, and waited for it to cool before he munched on his delicious snack. He sat down at the kitchen table to eat it. He didn't want to get the house dirty. Germany didn't have a lot of time to clean up after Austria's messes. He still hadn't even bleached the carpet after that stupid Italian had spilled hot chocolate all over it. For a couple of days Austria was resolved to do it himself, but Germany liked to clean, so Austria wouldn't deny him the pleasure.

The sandwich, to his delight, tasted just as good as it smelled. Austria was an excellent cook, if he did say so himself. The sandwich was soon gone, and Austria, with a final sip of his tea, settled at his beloved piano. He was about to write another masterpiece and move on to finally write Japan's Bon music when he heard the phone ring. He got up. What was Germany's boss doing, calling him while he was working? Shouldn't he be able to just walk down the hallway? Austria picked up the phone.

"Hello, is this Austria?" Well, that was strange, why was Germany's boss asking for him?

"Yes sir…" he answered hesitantly.

"We need you to come here to pick up Germany. He collapsed and is unconscious."

"I-I'll be there right away!"

* * *

><p><em>Translation: "Che l'inamorato pazzo sta per dire la verità!" (That love-struck fool is going to tell the truth)<em>


	7. A Thousand Years

_Uploader's Note: Yeah, sorry this is a day late. I was having trouble signing in yesterday, but it just randomly started working this morning._

_A Thousand Years by Christina Perry_

_The reason I think the song goes with the chapter is because... I don't know, it fits in some abstract way. There's a love that's been going on for a thousand years, but yet, no one knows about it, not even the one who owns that love, or who gave the love in the first place._

_Is secret love really love...?_

_Or is it gone forever..._

_Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya._

* * *

><p>It was a few days after the incident, and a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Japan wrapped gently on the door of Germany's house. In Japan's other hand was some herbal medication, natural remedies he'd borrowed from China, now that their relationship wasn't quite as strained. Austria came to the door, a contented smile on his face, and welcomed him inside. Japan walked into Germany's house and looked for its main occupant.<p>

_I'm really worried about him. This hasn't happened before. He was perfectly healthy, maybe it's all the stress…_

"Hey West!" Prussia yelled loudly. Japan took off his shoes and coat, and walked into the kitchen. Prussia was ranting loudly above the clamor of Germany cooking and Austria's piano music. Its soothing melody seemed out of place, but Japan wasn't going to complain. Prussia was leaning against the fridge and waving his hands. It was obvious he was pretty angry about something, but Germany wasn't really paying attention.

"I can't believe you! I know you've been busy lately, but how could let yourself run out of beer? I taught you better than this, West! Not only that, you're sitting here baking! What are you making, anyways? Hey, listen to me when I'm talking to you, West!" Prussia yelled. Germany turned to him, looking strangely… well, out of it.

"I'm going to the store after I finish." Germany said. "And we can go for beer later tonight, but right now I need to-"Prussia didn't let him finish.

"Oh no, Germany, you did not just say we could go for beer later. There is no 'beer later', there's always a time for beer! Geez, Japan, knock some sense into my idiot brother!" Prussia yelled, and walked into what Japan assumed was the living room, leaving him and Germany in a bit of an awkward silence under Prussia's angry mumbling.

"I'm sorry about him…" Germany mumbled. "Welcome. I'm trying to cook, but I can't get it right without…" he shook his head, and stared at the strange baked object before him. It smelled strongly of potatoes and spices that Japan wasn't familiar with.

"Germany, are you alright?" Japan dared to ask. He was very worried. The only time Germany ever ran out of Beer was because of him, and Germany's loyalty to the health program he'd started with Japan. Something was very wrong with Germany, Japan could sense it, and he was worried. He set down the herbal medication he'd brought and stood next to Germany at a respectable distance. Germany was taking a long time to answer.

"… No. I'm not. "Germany said at last. He looked around, and then turned back to Japan. "I'm baking this because that's what I saw when I collapsed in the office. There was a little maid girl next to me. Do you remember the painting Italy had?" he asked. His words were slurred strangely.

"Yes, I do." Japan replied evenly. He heard that it had been restored, although the restoration was apparently unsuccessful.

"The girl, she looked like that. She looked exactly like that. I was young, too, for some reason. We were in a kitchen I'd never seen before, but it resembled Austria's old house's kitchen. We were baking some kind of pie." He said, and sighed. "That's the sort of stuff I see when I get those headaches… It's always the same girl, always the same places. She's always got a broom too." He sighed. "Well, I give up. I can't bake a pie like she could." He put the mess back into the fridge. As ugly as it was, it might taste decent. The problem was getting someone brave enough to try it.

_That was a pie…?_ Japan caught himself staring at it, and averted his gaze immediately. _Maybe… it's a western phenomenon. _

"I… brought these for you, Germany." Japan said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. He picked up the herbal medicines again. "They're for your headaches. I believe they are caused by stress. If you'll lie down, I could try some of the de-stress items on you…" Japan offered. Germany stared at him a moment.

"I… don't think it's… caused by stress… but alright. It would help a lot if I didn't keep seeing the hallucinations." Germany sighed, and led Japan up to what Japan assumed was his room. Japan felt a little nervous.

_I wonder if I'm out of line here. I hope I'm not being rude or breaking an unspoken western culture rule, and if I am, I hope Germany will tell me…_ Japan thought as Germany lay down on his bed. Japan pulled up a chair, and gently began massaging his head with the oils China had let him have, just like China had done for him, back before… They became separate countries.

"Japan, do you mind if I tell you about what I see? I'm hoping to make sense of it, because I think it means something important, like there's something big I've forgotten." Germany asked.

"I do not mind." Japan said, and wondered if this was what his friend America called a 'shrink' would be doing.

"The first one I had was when Italy was leaving my house after he had that breakdown of some sort. I turned around to watch him leave, and I saw the shadow of a maid, but at the same time, it sort of looked like a really young Feliciano. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was really strange." Germany said. "The next time, I saw the actual maid girl. She was running around the house, and looked sad. This occurred a couple times, and then she turned and saw me… I guess I scared her or something, because she was frozen for a moment, and then ran." Germany sighed. Japan was dutifully trying to see how this would connect, but he was getting nothing yet. If Germany knew the name of the maid girl, maybe it would make sense, because then Germany would know the maid, but…

"What have you been eating recently?" Japan asked. Maybe that was it. It was just a bit of undigested food or something, or something spicy. Although spicy stuff was normally associated with nightmares, different people reacted differently to different foods, so that might be it. As for the headaches, he wasn't sure. Maybe Germany was having a hangover to the beer he always drank? Overall, the whole situation was strange.

"The same thing I've always eaten. There's been no change in my diet recently." Germany said. "The same brands, the same foods, it's the same… everything."

"Well, maybe your hallucinations are something important, like maybe something you've forgotten that your body remembers. Do you know what happens when you forget something, Germany? Your memory doesn't disappear; you just lose access to it. Maybe you're just regaining access." Japan felt excited about this, but he was careful to hide it. He treasured and admired the ability to hide one's emotions.

Germany sat up, staring off into another wall. Japan sat there a moment, and took a step back. Did he say something wrong? Germany just sat there a moment, deep in thought. He turned to Japan, and did something he rarely did out of the presence of Italy. He smiled.

"I hope so." He said at last. "I lost my memories of my childhood when I was little. Prussia told me to forget about it when I was little… I had the same hallucinations… he said it was just my body acting strangely after I got hurt… I don't even remember why I was hurt." Germany said. "Do… Do you mind if I tell you more? I know it's out of line… but for once… this isn't something I can do by myself." Japan was taken aback. Germany was admitting weakness? This was very strange. This must be very important to Germany to ask something of this caliber.

"Yes." Japan said. Germany was his friend, and that's what friends did, right? They helped each other! Italy was always trying to help them. Granted, he normally failed and made things worse, but it was the fact he tried so hard, that was what made it so tolerable, no, not tolerable, positively _endearing_.

"All right," Germany said, and gestured to the chair, "You can sit back down if you want. Make yourself comfortable." He said, and Japan sat back down. "Alright, so here's what I've seen so far." He said, and took a deep breath. "The next few visions were of her eating what I assumed I cooked. The first time, I handed it to her through a small opening. She was in some kind of storage facility. The second time, it was in the middle of the hallway. I was watching her from around the corner. I suddenly felt some great fear as I watched her, and for some reason, I couldn't move, I couldn't walk towards her. _Mein Gott, _it was strange." He shook his head, and Japan politely nodded for him to go on.

"The next visions were always different. One time, she was cleaning. I still couldn't go towards her. Another vision we were outside, painting. I will admit that she was a wonderful painter. She had a style similar to Italy." He said. "And mine was really bad. She turned to me, and started talking to me. For some reason, I could barely understand her words. I felt a jolt of fear when she grabbed my hand, and my face felt really warm. I ran, and the vision ended." He sighed.

"It sounds as if you were in love with her." Japan said casually, although it was a strange concept. He had no real experience on the matter, but he'd researched it at some point in his life. It was a wonderful thing.

"Love isn't the paralyzing fear… It's supposed to be warm, right? Why am I afraid of her?" Germany growled. Japan knew that Germany detested cowards, and their emotion- fear.

"Well isn't that how it starts?" Japan asked. "Crushes are similar to fear."

"Maybe. It would explain a lot, but… why am I remembering it? I mean, even if I am in love, it's not important. It was so long ago, she's probably dead." Germany said.

_How can you say love is not important…? _Japan kept his thoughts to himself, but he wished to say them. He nodded again at Germany to continue, and he obliged with a silent nod back.

"The last one, the one that I had back when I collapsed, was the one that I felt the most like I was a part of. I was in a kitchen that looked a lot like Austria's old one. The maid girl was beside me, looking a couple years older. We were both making something. She was a good cook too. I'm still not as good. I was trying to recreate what we did when you walked in." Germany sighed.

"Germany… Have you been really stressed lately? I mean, it could be another cause of you remembering things." Japan asked tentatively.

"I have had a lot on my mind…" Germany admitted, "Ever since the Christmas party." Japan's eyes widened. What was so horrible about the Christmas party? He'd gotten violently ill, so he didn't know why a lot of countries were reluctant to mention it.

"Oh right, I heard you got sick… I'm sorry I walked out on you then. I forgot that I was your ride home." He said, looking embarrassed. Japan fought the urge to shudder. 'Sick' would not come close to describing the feeling of helplessness, clinging to America's toilet and heaving up eggnog until his throat felt like it was on fire. Germany paused for a moment. Japan assumed he was trying to sum up the Christmas party, and was not prepared for the sentences that followed.

"To sum it up, Belarus attacked Italy, and France got knocked in the head to the point of kissing Italy and calling him a girl."

"That bad…?"

"Ja."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Germany's face was contorted with anger. Japan shivered, remembering seeing France in the morning, all the bruises on his head, and a nasty one on his side. Were they all from Germany? Japan started to put away the stress-relief supplies. It was not from stress. This was something bigger. He wasn't sure why Germany was suddenly having visions that were possibly lost memories, as neither of them knew each other all that well, despite the longtime of knowing each other. They both preferred to make small-talk, which, while polite, didn't get far in getting to know each other. While Japan did not know Germany that well, he did know something that would make him feel a lot better, which might have been all that Germany needed.

"I think… we should go to Italy's house." Japan said at last. As much as Italy… disturbed him, it was nice to hang out with the country. It was like hanging out with the sun.

"I do need to return his car…"Germany said, and got up. "Ja. Let's go to Italy's." Japan nodded, and they both went downstairs, agreeing to take 2 separate cars. Germany would drive what Italy called a 'Ferrari'. Japan agreed to this because Germany probably would not have fit in his tiny electrical car anyways, or at least not comfortably. Before they could leave, however, Austria decided that was not such a good idea.

"Germany, you shouldn't be leaving the house, you're still ill. What if you get one of your headaches while you're driving? If you get one at Italy's house, it'll scare him to death. Why don't you wait, and try to call him while we wait for you to get better?" Austria offered. Germany sighed, but Japan knew that Austria was right. It would be a dangerous situation if he started hallucinating again. Austria then turned to Japan.

"You can go to Italy's, though, and inform him that Germany's not feeling well. Italy's probably been worried sick. Yes, go talk to Italy, and I'll make sure Germany's comfortable. Thank you for the treatment, though." Austria said, leading Germany inside. Japan nodded, but wondered,

_Why didn't Italy already know about Germany's illness?_

~:.:~^~:.:~

I sighed with relief when I put some pants on, feeling less like I was flashing the entire world. All of my feminine clothes were dirty except my old maid outfit, and my 'usual' clothing was about all I had left. The day was unusually cool for the country, and I drew a blanket around myself, curling my bare feet under the blanket with a content sigh. I snuggled into the chair with a yawn. My brown eyes nestled themselves on the front door as I lazily waited. I was all alone.

Romano was out getting us some more food. The previous night, my brother and I had a pasta-eating contest. It raged on for a good two hours before we were both ready to give in. There was no clear winner to the contest, because we ended up eating all the pasta in the house. Romano decided that, because he issued the challenge, he would go retrieve more. It was still early in the morning, but my stomach was not happy about me having to resort to a pop-tart in my hunger. I didn't even heat it up. Even now, my stomach was complaining.

I felt myself start to doze off under the warm blanket before she heard a strange noise. At first I thought it was a dream, but the noise became clearer, and was revealed to be someone knocking on the door. I got up to answer it, ignoring my brother's warning not to open the door if I didn't know who it was. I opened the door and was surprised to see none other than Japan! I quickly ushered him in, grateful I wasn't wearing my new female clothes. Japan didn't know I was female, either. No one but Romano, Austria, and Hungary did.

"Italy, I have something important to tell you." He said. I offered him a seat, and he took it. I sat down as well. Japan wouldn't come over here to simply chat. Whatever it was, it really was important. I hoped it was good news. I didn't like bad news.

"Is this about Germany?" I blurted out. Japan, for once, did not chide me about interrupting him. He simply nodded, and I waited for him to tell me. What was wrong with Germany? Why couldn't he simply tell me himself?

"Germany is… ill, Italy. He's been having a lot of bad headaches, that's why he hasn't been contacting you recently. He wanted… well… Austria wanted… me to tell you." Japan said awkwardly.

"Germany's sick? I should go over there!" I said, and started to get up, but Japan nervously grabbed my arm.

"I-I'm sorry for touching you, Italy, but I would like to suggest that you do not go over to Germany's house. Austria has been acting very strange, lately, and-" Japan looked over me, and seemed to be surprised stiff. Confused by what he meant by Austria's strange behavior, but even more confused by his sudden behavior, my eyes followed his. I turned, and I felt my face redden in embarrassment. My maid outfit was hanging on the door to my bedroom, hanging on the doorknob.

"-Is that… yours, Italy?" he asked, moving towards it with methodic slowness, as if he was afraid it would disappear at any moment. I swallowed loudly and nodded, feeling awkward. What would Japan think about me? As far as he's concerned, I'm still a guy! He probably thought I was such a freak, having a cute little dress like that…

"Yes." I squeaked, sounding extremely girly. I covered my mouth. I didn't get embarrassed! Or at least, I didn't act like that a lot. Japan turned to me with a questioning, curious look. It was the most emotion I'd ever seen on his face, even after he tasted some of my pasta back when he hung out at my place a few days, ate pasta, and loved it so much he created something called ramen, even this had more emotion than that moment.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Italy." He assured, and turned back to the maid outfit. His hand reached out tentatively, and touched the soft skirt I had once worn every day.

_How does he know what I'm feeling? _ I thought, and remembered that back when I had first met him, he said that his hobby was to read the atmosphere and to refrain from speaking. That must mean that he's excellent at reading emotions, right?

"Italy… where did you get this?" he asked, sounding serious. I felt a little concerned. Why did he have a sudden interest in my clothing…? I decided it was just better to answer him with the truth. Lies had gotten me into a big mess. It did get me close to Germany, but at what cost?

"It's mine. I've had it since I was a child. I used to have to wear it back when I worked under…" I still could barely say his name without choking, "Holy Roman Empire." I said. I was getting better at saying his name, though. I could taste the bitterness of the wine fade away to sweetness. I loved that boy.

"You… were a maid? Why did you wear girl's clothes?" He cut himself off. "I'm sorry; this is very personal to you… I just… I need to know… That picture… I know it's a sensitive subject, after your outburst and all, but… Were you the child in the picture?" he asked me. I froze. Was there any way I could not answer this question? It would be like admitting, yes, I'm really a girl, I've lied to you all my life, thank you for rubbing it in. I was stuck, absolutely frozen in place. I tried to speak, but my throat closed in.

"Italy… are you alright?" he asked. "Are you in pain? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that, I knew it was too personal; it's just that Germany was having hallucinations about the child in the picture and I hoped you knew something about it considering it is your painting…" He fumbled with words. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Yes! It's me; the girl in the picture is me!" I blurted out. "I worked in Austria's house when Holy Roman Empire painted that picture of me while I was sleeping, and after he died, that's all I had left of him! That's why I was so upset when the painting wasn't done right…" I said it, I said it all, right in Japan's face. He stood there a moment, staring at me as if I'd just tried to murder him with a spoon or something crazy. I wished the silence would be over. The silence was the loudest I've ever heard.

"You… You're a girl?" he gasped out loud, and I reluctantly nodded. "Y-You've been lying all this time…" His hand covered his mouth. "I-I'm sorry… Thank you for answering the questions and allowing me into your home… I… I must go now." He gasped, and got up. I watched him leave, and silently cursed myself. Why did I admit it? After all this time of secrecy, I finally come out with the truth. My fists clenched as I tried to figure out what exactly had happened. Why had I explained myself so eagerly? My entire body trembled and I snuggled back into the chair, wishing it all hadn't happened.

_If only Hungary hadn't given me my maid outfit back, none of this would have happened…_

I thought miserably, and wished my brother had been here. He would've shut me up immediately. Granted, he'd be rude to Japan and kick him out, but maybe that was for the best? I shouldn't have said what I said back there. As if my prayers were answered, my brother opened the door just as tears started to pool around my eyes. I felt like such an idiot!

I really was an idiot.

"Italy." He said, and greeted me with kisses on my left and right cheek. "I saw a beautiful girl today, and we started talking, and-" he paused when he saw my sad, frightened eyes. "Italy. What's wrong? Were you attacked while I was gone? Was it eyebrows, or was it that potato jerk? I'll kill them-" he growled as he set the bags down. He started going into our room, and I only guessed he was getting his gun.

"Romano!" I said, a little too loudly.

"What is it?" he growled, and cursed for the first time I've heard in what seemed to be a long time, but really was only the span of about two weeks.

"It's all me, it's all my fault." I whimpered. "I blurted out something I shouldn't have to Japan… and he reacted… not well…"

"What did you say? Oh for the love of pasta, you didn't tell him you were-" A note for those who might wonder why neither of us would ever use the popular phrase, 'oh my god', and also why I had my Bible out the previous days. My brother and I were both devout Catholics. It was, after all, the national religion. Romano's always had a problem with his cursing, and me… and my lie.

Except it wasn't a lie anymore.

I was finally telling the truth.

I nodded. Romano bit back more curses, but I could tell they were flashing in his mind by the way he bit his lip, teeth nearly drawing blood on the unfortunate object closest to them. I backed away as if the country in front of me was a savage animal locked in the guise of an ordinary human boy.

Oh wait… I was that too.

"_Dannazione!_" he yelled. "Thank God it was Japan; he'll keep quiet if you ask him. Why did you tell him anyways? What did he do to you?" he gripped my shoulders, fingers digging into my shoulders blades. I gasped in pain as his fingernails dug into my flesh.

"N-nothing!" I gasped. I didn't want him to hurt Japan; it wasn't the poor black-haired man's fault! It was mine!

"Then why did you tell him!" Romano demanded.

"He asked about the painting because Germany is sick and sees me for some reason in the dress over there, and I didn't want to lie to anyone anymore! I'm sick of lying!" I yelled, trying to wiggle free of his grasp, but he held me there like a scientist holding a bug, picking apart my words like the insect's innards. We stood there in uncomfortable silence. He held onto my shoulders, as far away as his arms would allow. His honey eyes stared into mine, heat and cold fighting silently against each other. I winced when he kept his hold on my shoulders. It really hurt, my _fratello _was really strong.

"R-Romano? Please let go…" I said at last. He turned away from me, and then pulled me close.

"I'm worried about you." He said. I was shocked. He didn't act like he was worried about me! He acted like he was mad at me all the time! He acted like he hated my guts! He grabbed my hand and gently led me through the house, and I wondered where we were going. Should I be scared? This is my _fratello_ we're talking about, but I followed, silent as a lamb. My hand found his, my eyes searching. I wanted to know what the purpose of leading me down the villa's hallway. The only thing down this hallway was our bedroom and the basement.

"Italy, I have a question for you." He stopped now, but held on to my wrist.

"What is it, _fratello_?" I asked and felt a little frightened.

"I want to know… What does Germany do…? I mean, how did he react toward the person he thinks you are when you mess up."

"He acts mad and tells me to get my act together, but after a few minutes he's forgiving and acts really nice and caring again."

"How does he handle lies?" Romano asked. I gulped, and fidgeted under the weight of the question. I knew where this was going. He was trying to talk me out of talking to Germany. He couldn't! I refused to lie to my best friend any more.

"He says they're cowardly… and he doesn't like cowardly things…" I answered hesitantly.

"Would he find you cowardly?" Romano growled. "No, don't even answer that, because he _would_. You know it too, don't you?" I winced. It was true. "Now tell me, Italy, I want to know, because I don't know him as well as you do. How do you know he'll accept you for… who you are?" he looked down my body as an indication, not as a lecherous gaze. I followed his gaze, and nodded.

"He will… because he loves me and I love him. That's all that matters, right?" I tried to give him a smile. Hungary made this sound so easy…! I was getting frustrated and sad. Why was my dear _fratello _doing this to me?

"No he doesn't." Romano growled. The unexpected comment sprung tears to my eyes. "He loves this person you've created." He causally lifted the flap of my male military uniform jacket and slapped my face with it. I angrily brushed it away. Romano didn't know anything about Germany if he believed that!

"We're the same person!" I pushed him away. I wanted him out of my sight right then! I wanted him to leave me alone! He was a fool if he thought he was getting to me. "It doesn't matter if I'm a guy or a girl!"

Have you ever noticed that fatal flaw in your own words? Have you ever told a lie repeatedly? As you tell it over and over, as the word spreads, as you keep repeating the same sentence over and over like a magical chant, a strange and horrible thing happens. You begin to believe what you know is a lie. You can lie to yourself just as easily as you can lie to other people. I believed my own lie.

"Everything matters!" he yelled. "Italy, your relationship with him is based on lies!" he grabbed my arm. I know the gesture was meant to comfort me, but instead it just made me mad. I flung him off. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"It… it is not! I'll prove it to you! I'm going over there right now and I'll tell him! You'll see!" I yelled. What happened next I never saw coming. I expected a simple slap on the wrist, but what he did next astounded me. He grabbed my arm again, not as gentle as the previous time, and dragged me towards the basement. He turned on the light and looked me in the eyes. "You're staying in here until you calm down." He said, and locked the door.

_ In life, facing the truth might be painful… but living a lie is worse. _


	8. Boys Don't Cry

_Author's Note_: _I love this title. It's the most ironic, lovely thing ever. The song? Oh, it's by Plumb._

_Welcome to the most dramatic, but not quite the climax, chapter in the story. I love this chapter. I really do~ Oh, excuse me? Symbolism? Yeah, there's some. :3_

_Uploader's Note: Author almost sent me this late, because we both forgot about it._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia._

* * *

><p>"Let me out!"<p>

Keep walking.

"Please let me out!"

Just one step in front of the other.

"Fratello!"

Don't look back.

"Let me out!"

Keep walking.

"Romano, please!"

Keep walking.

Romano had to keep walking down the hallway. In the background was his sister's screams. Her small hands bat against the basement door. It took all that he had in him not to turn around and let her out. He had to keep reminding himself that this was for his sorella's good, even if she didn't believe it now. He couldn't let her out and go ruin the rest of her life. She had to calm down.

Romano had to tell her why he refused to let her out of that basement. He had to tell her why he refused to let her talk to Germany. He had to tell her the fear that had plagued him, for only she could ever earn he'd been afraid of anything. The one thing he feared most was something that could happen very soon, as a direct result of his sister's choices.

She could get hurt.

He could lose her… forever.

He had to keep walking. He had to go talk to Japan, and go get his sister's mess straightened out, at least with the Asian country. There was no telling what Japan would do at this point. No one knew him that well. He was a mysterious country. Romano had to make sure that he didn't tell Germany about his ally's secret- her gender. Romano growled.

He walked through the hallway, through the kitchen, out the door. He definitely needed to talk to Japan, at least explain half of what was going on. Well, he could attempt to. He wasn't sure himself exactly what happened. He wasn't there personally; he'd been hanging out at Spain's house when Italy decided to have that mental breakdown that resulted in her strange decision. As a result, he got the information second-hand.

He'd been pretty upset about it. His younger sister was now his little brother? There were so many things wrong with that! He'd been so upset; he had to leave Spain for three days! Originally he was going to try to make it to Italy, try to talk her out of it, but he was stopped by Turkey, and Spain had to rescue him. Spain wouldn't let him leave the house after that. He didn't get the chance to see his sister again until they were almost adults.

He almost thought Italy was a male by the way she carried herself. Although she was still really girly, she hid it by letting people believe she was simply homosexual. He guessed she would appear that way, after falling for the patata bastardo. She carried herself strong and tall, and Romano almost laughed. She barely had anything for her chest, luckily for her. From the clothes she wore, the way she styled her hair, to the simple way she acted, he honestly thought she was a guy. She pulled it off really well… until now.

He opened the car door and climbed in. He put his seatbelt on, and turned the car on. He turned on the car and turned down the radio when a sudden rock sound blasted through the speakers and startled him. He cursed angrily and changed the station. He wasn't in the mood. He needed something calming. He needed to be calm in order to talk to Japan. Japan simply wouldn't listen to him if he was off ranting about every subject under the sun.

His honey eyes drifted down and he brushed brown hair out of his face as he saw a piece of paper on the dashboard. He took it down without reading it and stuck it to his stick shift's handle, and backed up the car. He could worry about his sister's strange choice of music later. He had to worry about getting to Japan's. He'd have to drive over to China's first, and then he'd have to catch a boat to get to Japan's house. Oh, the things he did for his sorella.

His eyes turned to the piece of paper to read it when he stopped for a light. He was a little better at driving than his sister, but when it came to speed, he couldn't compare. They each had a good quality of driving around them. Italy's was harder to see, though. He picked up the paper, and stared at it.

Song: White flag

Artist: Dido

Gotta look it up on YouTube~!

"Weird." He said, and pressed on the gas pedal as soon as the light turned back to green.

~:.:~^~:.:~

"I have to get out." That's all that needed to be said. I had beaten that door until my knuckles when numb. I had screamed to my brother until my throat was sore and I could barely talk. I had cried until the tears wouldn't come. I was stuck in the basement, our basement, with no way out. What was I going to do now?

"I have to get out." I barely recognized my own voice.

Then do so, Italy. Someone whispered into my ear. I nodded, and dragged myself up. I had to get out; it was as simple as the words escaping my lips. There had to be a way out of here! I walked down the stairs and looked around my surroundings. There had to be something useful to my escape down here. Maybe somewhere we had a flamethrower. I could burn the door down!

The basement in our house is like everyone else's basement; it contains our memories. There's so much stuff accumulated over the years that the extensive cleaning Japan and I did barely touched it. I noticed one of the packing peanuts on the ground, and picked it up, fondly remembering, even if Japan was unhappy with me. I guess he had every right to be furious. I did knock into him, causing him to stumble and fall and end up headfirst in a box, and getting stuck, too!

I began searching through the boxes. A plan was forming in my mind. I knew exactly how I was going to do this; my secret was finally coming out. If he remembered me, that girl that Japan mentioned, he must have known the time back when I acted… like a girl. It was a good thing that Hungary gave me the maid outfit back; it would be instrumental to my plan. Maybe if he saw me in that outfit, he would simply remember me on his own!

If he did, he would help. He would understand why I did what I did. Everyone knew that Holy Roman Empire had died. Everyone knew about my close connection to him. Everyone knew that I grieved for him. It was just the pact that no one knew about, that stupid pact that I made! Yes, he would understand when I told him about the pact. He would forgive me. We could get on with our lives. He might even finds that he loves me, too.

As I searched, I found another old painting. It was a crudely-drawn picture of a bunny, like something a small child would draw. My breath caught in my throat as I gently caressed the old painting. It was another painting from my childhood in Austria's house. Underneath this painting was a better drawing of the same bunny. I smiled, because the bitterness was no longer there. Holy Roman Empire had painted this painting as well as the one of me. I hugged the painting close, and decided to take it with me for some unknown notion.

Call it a woman's intuition.

I noticed something when I looked up again. There was a small window, just out of reach, right across from me. A way of escape! I could open the window and slip out! I dashed over to the window and tried to judge how high it was. It wasn't too bad, but it was higher than I could jump. I began dashing around the basement and collected boxes to stand on. This was my way of escape. I bet Holy Roman Empire himself was still around; I'm convinced he was the one who pointed it out to me. I smiled broadly.

I was going to use this to get out of the basement, and then I was coming back in to get my maid outfit, and later retrieve the painting. I was then going to leave the building, and go over to Germany's before my courage faded. Was I scared to tell him the truth? Of course I was scared to admit to Germany that I'd lied to him the entire time I've known him! What I did with this fear was what counted, according to Japan. Ever since he'd said that, I've tried to keep it close. Everyone gets scared sometimes, all that matters is what you do with that fear.

The boxes were stacked to my liking. I took a tentative step to test out the boxes. I wasn't sure if they would hold my weight. Much to my delight, they did. I slowly made my way up to the window and opened it. I could just barely slip my body through. I did have a small body, even for a woman, but it was a tight squeeze. At first I thought it was stuck at my hips, but with a lot of wiggling, I dragged myself out behind the house.

I walked back inside. The first trial was over. I unlocked and walked down into the basement, and picked up the painting. I held it close and walked back up. I wondered if I should put on the maid outfit while I was inside, and I decided to do so. I walked into the bedroom, where it was still hanging on the knob. With a reflective smile, I took it off the hanger.

I hurriedly put the green, lacy outfit on. It looked like any stereotypical maid's outfit. I had a long evergreen skirt with white bloomers, and a mint green short with puffed sleeves with ribbon adornments that I adored watching Hungary weave in during my first few days at Holy Roman Empire's house. Over this cute little green dress-like outfit was a lacy apron that had a lot of lacy propaganda at the sleeves. I looked around, but I couldn't find the delicate lace hand warmers I'd worn when I was a child. I assumed that they simply deteriorated, after all, it was many centuries ago. The only reason my dress survived is probably that Hungary simply stitched up a new one.

Towards her, I would always be grateful.

I put on my bonnet, fixed my hair, and walked out. I was ready to tell Germany. I was ready to tell him everything.

I walked outside the door and hurried to Germany's. I didn't know how long Romano would be gone. He'd be home soon. I had to do this. He didn't need to freak out and call for a search party. I would be fine. I began heading in his direction on foot. Being a country, one of my abilities was getting to an area abnormally fast. I'd had to hitchhike a little, but that was okay. I'd make it to Germany's. Everything was going to be fine.

~:.:~^~:.:~

There was a knock on Japan's door. He looked up from his manga and heard loud Italian outside. He placed Dragon Star on his pillow and got up, wondering which Italy was at his doorstep. It didn't sound like Italy, but he didn't know why Romano would be at his doorstep. He'd never wanted to go before. Japan opened the door, and was surprised to see that it was indeed Romano.

"Let me in." That was all Romano said as he stood at Japan's doorstep. Japan nodded and let him in. Although he'd really prefer not to talk to Italy's eccentric brother, he knew to be polite. He would catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. He beckoned Romano to sit down next to his kotatsu table. Whatever it was, it had to be important. Romano wouldn't be over here for a visit.

"Tea?" Japan offered to be polite, and to his surprise, Romano simply nodded. Romano was obviously trying to be polite as well. Japan was a little scared of what this could mean. What was Romano doing here? What was his purpose? Japan handed him the tea and they sat in silence for an awkward moment, sipping tea and staring at each other, sizing each other up. Finally, Romano set down his cup slowly, careful not to break the delicate and beautiful china.

"I'm here to talk to you about Italy… my sorella." Japan felt a little confused by the Italian word, but remembered Italy referring to his, no, her brother as fratello. Maybe this was the Italian word for 'sister'? This confirmed it then. Italy really was a girl. Japan waited for Romano to continue.

"As she told you… she… really is a girl." Romano stuttered. It was obvious this was hard for him, confirming his sister's unsung secret. "And I know it's a shock, but… please, you can't tell anyone. My sorella, she's been really upset lately, she didn't know what she was saying. She didn't mean to tell you."

Japan hated keeping secrets. It was like lying to him, and that was something he disdained. He didn't like that Italy had lied to him all these years, but she must have had a good reason, right? She gave up everything that made her who she was for the sake of… something. He sighed, wondering who else knew. He suddenly felt concerned for his young maiden friend when he realized what could happen.

"Does Germany know?" he asked tentatively.

"No, and you can't tell him. I won't let her tell him either. We both know he hates liars. I don't want to see my sorella hurt." Romano said.

"I see. Then I will not tell him. You will need to let her tell him, though. Lies do not live forever." Japan said. Romano huffed.

"Neither will she if Italy tells Germany." Romano growled.

"Speaking of Italy, where is she? Why can't she speak for herself?" Japan asked. It was a little strange. Italy loved coming to Japan's house. (Japan suspected that it was the kotatsu table, but with Italy, it could be the ramen… or simply sneaking up behind Japan and glomping him, which was going to be infinitely more awkward if she did it again… because of obvious circumstances.)

"I locked her in the basement until she calmed down. She freaked out earlier."

"You… what?" Japan was appalled. Who in the world treated their sister like that? "Is she okay?" He asked.

"Of course, I didn't hurt her. I just needed her to calm down and think." Romano said. Japan nodded. He didn't agree with Romano, but for the sake of being polite, he went along with it. At least Romano didn't hurt her this time. There was once when she came to training with multiple bruises, and refused to tell them what happened, but everyone knew it was Romano. He shuddered inwardly.

They sat in uncomfortable silent for a moment, until Romano's phone started ringing. Japan recognized it as 'the Tomato song'. Romano's face was red, like a tomato, when he answered it.

"Hello?" He asked. "What? Italy's missing! I'll be right there… yes sir… we've got to find him!" Romano hung up the phone.

"Him?" Japan asked.

"Even the boss doesn't know about Italy's gender. Listen, she's gone missing. I need to find her. I might…" he coughed and sputtered something that sounded like 'need your help', but one could never be sure. He might have asked for kelp.

Japan had a choice here. He could help Romano retrieve Italy, possibly retrieve her (?) and keep the secret hidden, as it probably should have been all along, or let Italy tell the truth. That's where she would be, over at Germany's house, revealing the truth. He had a difficult choice. He already knew the answer.

"She will find herself." Japan said. There were no ifs, ands, or buts. She needed to tell the truth after all this time. This was probably the best way.

"Fine." To his credit, Romano did not blow up and attack Japan. He simply stormed out, slamming Japan's delicate door and nearly broke it, and drove away at breakneck speeds. Japan sighed. He had to finish his calendar. It was around January 17th, right?

~:.:~^~:.:~

"Germany~ we're going out." I heard the next day. I was crouching in the black forest. I watched Hungary and Austria come towards my hiding place. I hid deeper in the bush while my mind raced. My wide eyes stared at them, begging them to turn around.

"So why are we searching the black forest?" Hungary asked.

"Well it's obvious where Italy is gone. She's off running around trying to get to Germany, and she'd need to rest along the way, because the only way she could've gotten her is on foot. She sleeps until very late, so we'll catch her while she's asleep." Austria replied.

"Wouldn't it be easier just to wait at home? That's where she's going, she'll get there eventually." Hungary pointed out.

"No it would not! She has a good chance of seeing Germany, since he sleeps on the couch pretty often these days." Austria pointed out. "And the door leads into the kitchen and the living room. Why in the world did he build it like that anyways?" he growled.

"It's a very modern style, and I guess he wanted to be more modern, I guess." Hungary sighed. They searched in silence for a moment.

"Austria, I've been thinking." Hungary said as she searched a bush quite near to where I was hiding in petrified silence.

"What is it, Hungary?"

"I don't think we should prevent Italy from talking to Germany… we all have skeletons in our closets… You still haven't even told him why Prussia found you so beat up. If you'd told him that when the opportunity presented itself, none of this would be necessary, and nothing on this scale would have happened. I bet Italy wouldn't have had to lie if you'd just told him the truth." Hungary chided.

"The opportunity never presented itself." Austria argued. "And he didn't need to know about what happened before."

"What about the time when he asked you directly? Everyone has the right to know who they are. I have half a mind to forget this and go tell him right now. That's why he's having those headaches, I bet. He's slowly going to remember who he really is, whether you want him to or not!" Hungary raised her voice. Austria did not reply. The silence was loud enough.

"I think I see something!" They were looking directly at her. She was terrified to the point where she could not move. Paralyzed, I shivered in the bush, hoping they were referring to something else. Austria was walking towards me. The crunching of his boots on the forest floor was deafening. He bent down next to the bush, and picked up my bonnet.

"She's nearby." Austria said.

"Grazie for helping me look for her." Romano had been up all night, searching for me, I could tell. He was pale and had large purple bags under his eyes. I held back a gasp of shock for his ragged appearance. Austria and Hungary nodded. I saw Austria hand Romano the bonnet and felt angry. I shouldn't have been so careless. I saw hope flash in Romano's eyes.

"She must be near. Come on." They walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief, and began to sneak away to Germany's. I looked like a mess. My hair was poking out in areas that should be impossible. My dress was covered in dirt. I tried to make myself presentable for Germany, but it wasn't going to work. Even if I cleaned up on the outside, I was still dirty. I had still lied to him all this time, and it felt like I was a rotten, moldy fruit, no matter how clean I was.

I started towards Germany's house, and overheard them talking.

"Isn't Japan helping? They're friends or something…" Austria was asking.

"No, all he said was that 'she'd find herself'. He sounded like a dannazione fortune cookie, the bastardo." Romano cursed vividly as their voices grew fainter. I could see his house. I could see in the window. He was in the living room, on the couch. That was strange. Wasn't he working now? Had his illness gotten that bad? A bolt of fear shot through me. I was going to tell him. There was no going back now.

Our relationship would change forever today.

The question was…

For better or worse?

I was terrified of him rejecting me. I was terrified to know if he would accept me or not. My hand shook as I reached for the doorbell. I was too timid to even reach for the doorknob. I couldn't do it. I could barely breathe. I felt as if someone was squeezing me with icy claws. I have always experienced fear. This was going beyond anything I'd ever felt before. Someone was pressing me down; gravity was crushing me until I felt like I would die at Germany's doorstep.

If I were to die, would that be better?

Everyone has those times when they feel the most scared. For some, watching scary movies can be the absolute worst fear they ever experience. For others, it was a life or death experience. For a sorry few, it was someone else finding out who you truly are. This is possibly the worst fear that could ever be felt, when you are stripped away to nothing and waiting judgment. Although knowing you've been accepted despite the wrong you've done is the best possible feeling you've ever felt, you must first stick your courage to the sticking place and tell them. That was always the hardest part.

As I stood there, pondering whether I had the courage to face Germany, to face myself, the door opened. I looked up to see Germany, and for the first time, I didn't hug him. I stood there, frozen. My throat closed in. I just stood there, staring up at him, trembling. He stared at me in shock. As I mentioned before, I am a mess. As I also mentioned before, I'm wearing a dress. As I mentioned before, I didn't hug the pasta out of him. He beckoned me inside, and for once I wished he did not touch me ever-so-lightly on the shoulder.

"Italy? What's wrong?" I could barely hear him. I wanted him to hug me, tell me it would be okay, that he wouldn't hurt me, but Germany wouldn't do that, would he? Just thinking of the possibility of rejection was enough to make me afraid in the face of the one I used to feel so safe with. I wanted to run away, wave a white flag and wait for someone to save me, but what could I do when my savior was the one I was running from? Germany said my name again, sounding concerned. I guess he would be. Yes, there was something wrong.

"I… I need to…" I feel like my heart would pound out of my chest. Is this what a heart attack felt like? "Tell you… that…" This was it. This was the moment I would know once and for all if Germany could really accept me for who I was, not the person I'd created. I fiddled with my apron. I couldn't dare meet his honest blue eyes. The truth hurt so much… is that why I'd lied for so long?

Germany laid his hands on my shoulders. I couldn't look at his face. I didn't hear what he said to me. I felt tears pricking in my eyes. I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him I've been lying to him. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was trying to speak, but there was nothing but silence. I heard Germany ask me if I'd been attacked… or something along those lines.

"I've been lying to you for so long, why do you care about me so much?" I blurted out, and immediately covered my mouth.

"Excuse me?" Germany raised an eyebrow. Definitely no way I could explain that… except with the truth.

"I've been lying to you… and I know it's wrong, and I was so scared you'd hate me… and… and… I just didn't tell you!" I was going to start crying any second now. I had to get it out now, before I was lost.

"Italy, what are you talking about?" Germany sounded a little… scared.

"I'm not who you think I am, I never was!" I said. "I'm… I'm…"

"A spy?" He gripped my dress around the collar. Oh, he'd figure it out on his own if he'd gone any lower…

"No!" I shouted as I dangled in the air. It made it even harder to breathe. "I'm… still… a… axis…"

"Then what is it?" he demanded.

"I'm a girl." He dropped me in shock, and I dropped on the floor, and began to beg for forgiveness. Wasn't this similar to when I'd first met him? If only I'd told him the truth then… "I've been a girl for all my life! I'm sorry I didn't tell you! Please don't hate me! You're my friend; you can forgive me, right? I didn't mean to lie to you! I was just so afraid you'd hate me, I wanted to keep my friend, because I love you and I never want you to go away!" I wailed on the floor, hands over my head as if we were in an earthquake and the walls were coming down around us. "Germany, I'm so sorry… so sorry…"

"You wanted to keep a friend?" his voice was dangerous, like a copperhead concealed in the leaves. His hand found my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes, his unforgiving eyes. "Then you shouldn't have lied to me." His hand clenched around my jaw. I cried out in pain and struggled away. I was trapped with my back to the couch. I slowly started inching towards the door. He was going to hate me! This had all gone wrong; I never should have done this! He pulled something out of his pocket… a knife.

"go." He said. I stared at him in shock. "GO!" he yelled louder, grabbing my arm and flinging me away from him. "You know the worst part about being lied to? Knowing that you weren't worth the truth! I thought I loved you, verdammt!" The knife was aimed at me. I crawled farther away, hoping I was heading in the direction of the door. "But I was a fool, played by your little games. You know what, Italy?" he had a strange grin on his face. I felt the door against my back. I was too scared to reach up and grab the handle. "Out of all your lies you've told me over the years…" The knife was up. He was going to throw it at me. "'I love you' was my favorite."

He threw that knife. I didn't feel it slice my arm. I didn't know that on top of a chocolate stain left in his living room, I'd leave a bloodstain on his jacket hanging on the coat hanger next to the door, and I'd leave blood on his door, although it would never stain. He could forget about me. I wasn't aware of myself running away, or seeing him collapse out of the corner of my eye. I was too scared to think, to realize what I'd done.

When I finally got home, my brother asked me what was wrong.

"You got your wish, Romano… I'm never going to see Germany again." And then I cried.


	9. Real Life

_Germany, you finally understand maybe! :D_

_Anyways, moving on. This song is from a video game. How cheesy is that, ahahaha? the song is from Italy's point of view, and I can't give you more than that or I'll spoil it for you. :3_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia._

* * *

><p>Germany clutched his head, lying on the floor. He didn't want to open his eyes. He could sink into oblivion, where his friends didn't betray him. Fortunately, God had other plans for the nation. Suddenly, Germany felt large hands on his arm.<p>

"Holy Roman Empire… Holy Roman Empire!" he opened his eyes to see… was that Austria? He looked a little younger than before. "Wake up! How long do you intend to sleep?" Oh yeah, it was Austria. He got up and slipped on some boots. At first they looked much too small, as if they were child's shoes, but they seemed to fit perfectly.

_Are these my memories from before the attack…? _He wondered as he tied his shoes. Austria was still talking.

"Now you were a little sick yesterday, but today you finally get to meet the country we've captured." Oh yeah, Austria refused to tell him who it was. It was supposed to be a surprise. His heart beat fast as he wondered if it was the little girl he had so desperately wanted to become part of his empire. He'd just gotten back from quelling an uprising when Austria told him… and then he'd gotten a little ill. Austria led him through the hallways of his large home.

"I've told them to sweep the east wing, so don't disturb them while they're working." Austria chided. Germany… or rather, Holy Roman Empire huffed and rolled his eyes. Since when did he ever disturb them? He continued on to the east wing, unsure of how he knew the way, but he definitely had been here before. Was this his home previously? He saw a figure sweeping in the distance, and his heart caught. Oh, it couldn't be! He had to get closer to be sure. She wasn't wearing white clothes anymore; she had on a green maid's outfit. He didn't stop to think that it was Italy, Italy did not exist here.

Yes, it was the same girl! She had the same, short chestnut locks that flowed ever so gently against her sun-kissed skin. She still had that ridiculous, adorable curl bobbing up and down as she worked. She still had those warm honey eyes. It was the country he'd always wished to conquer… if only he could remember her name, everything could be perfect. He was so shocked; he grabbed out and touched the fabric of her apron just to make sure that she was real, and not just a hallucination out of longing.

He had to run; he had to scream out his joy! He ran back into his room and grabbed a pillow, and began to scream his delight to that poor pillow, and rolled around in his excitement. He'd never been happier!

"Holy Roman Empire! Control yourself." Austria chided. He didn't care. She was finally his! He could see her everyday…

~:.:~^~:.:~

"Do you serve pasta?" The girl asked, teary-eyed.

"No we don't." Austria replied with a growl. Holy Roman Empire sighed. He'd make her pasta himself if he had to. He didn't even know what pasta was… Not that she had much time to eat it. She often stopped working to stare at Austria's paintings, and had to work very hard to make up for lost time spent staring. Holy Roman Empire once overheard Austria reprimanding the girl when she tried to draw too. Holy Roman Empire winced. Austria was a very strict master to the little girl.

As much as he wanted Austria to let up on her, it was not in his place. Austria was at least being fair or overly cruel; it just seemed as much because the girl was clumsy and didn't know a lot about how the world worked. She was undoubtedly missing her brother, as well. He'd been shipped off to Spain. This combination must have made it very hard for the girl.

He tried to let her do her work for the most part, which wasn't very hard. She was scared of him because she expected the same treatment from him as she did from Austria. Whenever she saw him, he trembled in fear. He settled on watching her from afar for the most part. One day, as he was feeling frustrated from a failed piano practice, he saw Italy gazing in to watch Austria play a beautiful symphony.

At first he was perplexed. Why wasn't she running away? He heard Austria beckon her forward, and she ran up to him and sat beside him! The music transfixed her that much? It was then that Holy Roman Empire decided to learn to play the piano. Someday, if he was really good, she might come and sit beside him, and listen to _him _play! That was truly the only reason he ever learned to play piano, and though he was never good at it, he tried hard, and occasionally he'd be rewarded by seeing her poke her beautiful little head inside the door.

Although she'd never run to his side and sit beside him on the huge seat in front of the piano, it was enough to meet those honey eyes, and not see fear in them. He asked her once or twice to come up to sit with him, but she'd always respond the same way. Her face would get red as a cherry, and she'd stand stiff as a statue. After she'd stood there for a moment, she would run away, mumbling something about having work to do.

Someday she wouldn't be so afraid of him. He'd get her to see past his gruff appearance somehow. It was going to be tough though.

"I'm sorry, I'll do anything, just don't hurt me!" She would whimper whenever he came near. He sighed. All he wanted was to _talk _to the girl!

It continued like this for a long time. Whenever he had the time, Holy Roman Empire tried looking up recipes for pasta.

The way to a woman's heart is through her stomach, after all.

Well, he figured the best person to ask was the little girl about the food in her house. The only problem was that he wasn't that great at talking to her. Whenever he got near her, his heart suddenly started beating out of control, his face got hot, and he couldn't talk. Most of the time he'd approach her he would simply run away after a few seconds. He was probably just as scared of her as she was of him.

And he still couldn't remember her name.

One day, he was in a hurry so he was eating his food as he was walking through the house. He refused to admit that he simply wanted to see the girl again. Was this what love was? He was pondering what exactly love was when he passed the back of his home, and turned to see her rummaging through the food scraps. She liked to eat a lot, but Austria kept her on a strict diet. Holy Roman Empire watched her turn away. She was picky about food. He sighed and looked down at his plate.

"Hey!" he yelled to get her attention, set his plate down, and ran like France was after him. He hid behind a wall and watched to make sure she saw that she now had food. Granted, she was a bit of a gourmet so she didn't like it all that much, but she had food! Someday Holy Roman Empire would get enough courage to even ask her what pasta even was. She'd like that.

~:.:~^~:.:~

"Every time I turn my back, you're eating!" Austria scolded. Holy Roman Empire winced. Was this his doing? Did Austria think that she stole the food on her own? He dashed up to Austria, who was scolding the little girl fiercely as he carried her like a naughty kitten. Her eyes were tightly shut and her entire body was locked up. She was terrified.

"Sorry." She whimpered as she was carried along. Austria sighed and shut her in the storage shed.

"I want you to stay in here and think about what you did." Austria growled.

"Yes sir." She said dejectedly. Holy Roman Empire turned to Austria as soon as the door was closed.

"What'd she do?" Holy Roman Empire asked. After all, he _was _the owner of the household; he had a right to know what was going on.

"I caught her sneaking food when she was supposed to be working." Austria replied simply.

"But I gave her some food." Holy Roman Empire said.

"From the food scraps?" Austria said.

"Oh… well no sir." Holy Roman Empire was surprised. She ate that much? He sighed. "A-alright." Holy Roman Empire left… for now. He waited until Austria left, and lifted the flap.

"So hungry…" she moaned in the darkness. Holy Roman Empire sighed with a big smile on his face, and soon returned with food. He lifted the flap again, the little girl still groaning about how hungry she was. She was little, but a glutton. Unfortunately, she squealed at the sight of him. He handed her the food, but turned away, frowning. When could he ever get her to see past his intimidation…? As discouraging as it was, he was only more determined. He would win the heart of the little girl! No matter how long it took!

And… he still couldn't remember her name.

It was around that time that Hungary came to live with Austria. Hungary was a beautiful young woman with long, dirty blonde curls who acted as a mother figure to the little girl, and soon enough Austria, who was married to her, eased up on the child. Holy Roman Empire was glad. He felt embarrassed when he asked Austria to be lighter on the clumsy girl.

~:.:~^~:.:~

War was coming. Holy Roman Empire could feel it, and as he walked back to his room from the meeting between his territories, he felt uneasy. He didn't want to leave to go to war. He had a bad feeling that trouble was brewing among the territories, and he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. Normally, after he finished his meetings, when he was stressed and out of focus, he'd seek out the little girl. She had an aura around her that calmed him, and when she smiled, it was like God himself was saying,

'Holy Roman Empire, you're going to be okay'.

On this particularly stressful day, he had a hard time finding her. On her days off, she'd find a quiet place to hide and take a nap. As much as she needed these, sometimes Holy Roman Empire wished she wouldn't go sleep. It was like hide n' seek times 1000 in the large house, with its many nooks and crannies. There was also the point that she never slept in the same place twice.

Today, she was hiding in plain sight in a big, plush chair. The red fabric contrasted beautifully with her light green maid garments. It brought out the copper in her hair. She looked stunning. Holy Roman Empire sighed. He wished he could capture this moment, but the only way to do that was to draw her, t was a way to capture his memory of her forever, if they should ever be separated. Holy Roman Empire was not the best artist. All he could amount to was stick figures and… childish drawings. He could always ask Austria, who was a good painter, to paint a portrait of the little girl, but asking would raise awkward questions he'd really rather not answer, even if he did figure it out. Hungary, unfortunately, while she would not ask questions, as she seemed to understand the situation, was not a good artist. There was only one person he could ask.

The little girl was sleeping in front of him.

He would ask her tomorrow, when they went outside. Until then, he would let her sleep. Holy Roman Empire quietly left the room, and waited for tomorrow with the utmost impatience, because he knew that tomorrow, he would have a big chance to win her heart.

Even if he couldn't remember her name.

~:.:~^~:.:~

"H-hey, do you think…. Do you think you could… teach me how to draw?" Holy Roman Empire clutched his easel for support. There was something about the girl that just made him want to run away and stay right where he was at the same time. It was the strangest thing he'd ever felt. The little girl turned to him, surprised, also looking like she wanted to run away. She was probably wondering if it was a demand or a request.

"W-why do you want to draw, Holy Roman Empire?" the girl questioned, trembling. He supposed it was a rather strange request, but at the same time, it set his little heart beating so loudly he swore the little girl could hear it from where she stood, clutching her little broom. He couldn't very well tell her his real reason for wanting to draw. Not only was it embarrassing, it would probably scare her away. He would be a little apprehensive out if his boss wanted to paint him.

That would be weird.

"Well, you draw very well and um… and um…" he stammered. Oh great, what was the reason he came up with his plan in the first place? Oh! He remembered!

"I have something I want to draw." Well, it wasn't a lie; it just wasn't the whole truth…

"Um… alright…" she mumbled. "Oh! You have drawing paper!" The change was instantaneous. Her face lit up like sunlight. She loved to draw, Holy Roman Empire knew that. He nodded, and offered her some and a paint brush. She took the bait immediately, and Holy Roman Empire bit back a scream of triumph that he'd finally caught her attention. Italy smiled back at him, for once, and they walked down the hill overlooking the river. He felt her grip his sleeve in excitement and felt his face get hot as an oven.

"We can draw the bunny!" she said in an excited whisper. Holy Roman Empire nodded, and so they sat down. The sun was warm and beat down on the, to the point where Holy Roman Empire wanted to shed his black clothes. He settled for taking his hat off, and allowing the sun to shine on his pale face, his blonde hair. With one hand shielding his deep blue eyes, he painted with his good hand.

After a while, he started to get discouraged. He turned to Italy's canvass for a quick glance, and caught himself staring. She was an amazing artist. The bunny in the picture looked like it would hop out. When he turned to his own, it looked like an ugly blob compared to hers. He sighed. How would he ever be able to capture the lovely girl sitting next to him if he couldn't even capture a rodent? She must have heard him sigh, because she turned to him and looked at his painting. He blushed vividly in embarrassment at his fail at painting.

Instead of giggling and teasing, she simply walked over to him. Holy Roman Empire turned his face away so she wouldn't see him blush. His entire body stiffened up. He couldn't talk, he couldn't move. It was the closest thing to fear he'd ever felt. He was a brave nation, small but noble. He'd already faced many battles and had shown steadfast strength and courage. There was no one who could possibly call him a coward. This girl threw that all out the window.

"I think it's good." He was shocked at her words. How did she? He met her warm honey eyes, searching for a lie, but there was nothing. She was being honest. "Oh, I see! Here, this is how you draw the foot." She said, and placed her hand on his. He lost all reason there. He was caught in between wonder, and an unquenchable joy, and absolute terror. Unable to think, unable to speak, he had a decision: Fight or Flight.

He was gone in about two seconds, leaving the painting (and his hat) behind.

~:.:~^~:.:~

There was a mouse in the house, Holy Roman Empire was sure of it. The little maid girl was a glutton, and he'd caught her snacking a couple times, but these were not the teeth marks of his little maiden. These were the teeth marks of a rodent, and by rodent, it was no bunny. He would find that little mouse himself, seeing as all the cats from his house had mysteriously disappeared after Greece arose.

Maybe there was a connection…?

He was being careful to avoid Hungary ever since yesterday, when he found her dressing up Italy in her childhood clothes. Holy Roman Empire nearly had a heart attack when the maid turned his way. She was so cute in that outfit! He managed to nervously approach her and make small talk, and he felt good about that. He was making progress.

Every day, the girl seemed to trust him a little more. Every day, they seemed to grow closer. He was so happy! He was finally getting somewhere to where he could actually talk with the girl without her running in fear. He was finding it easier to talk to her almost every day. He was finally getting over his nervousness. She was finally getting over hers. They were finally friends.

Suddenly, he heard squeaking. He gasped. It was the mouse! He could only imagine what would happen if the little girl ever saw the disgusting creature roaming the halls. He could see her now, running and screaming and carrying on. No, he had to protect the peace in his household!

And so, the cat and mouse scene began.

"I'll get you, Jerry!" Holy Roman Empire yelled as he chased the rodent through the house at astounding speeds. "I will crush your little mousy empire, and you will bow before the great Holy Roman Empire!" He saw the little gray creature dash into a flurry of white curtain –funny, he didn't remember any white curtains- and felt triumph. He had finally caught the mouse! The little girl had no reason to be afraid any longer! He grabbed the green curtain hanging over the white one and pulled upwards roughly, expecting to see a mouse.

Instead, he saw flesh.

Specifically, a butt.

Even more specifically, the maid girl's butt.

He stood there a moment, in shock. The little girl was staring at him with a curious look. He blushed madly, and put her dress down.

"I'm so sorry!" he screamed and ran away for dear life.

He decided to hide in his room the rest of the day, unable to face the maid girl he'd previously just violated.

"Why do I have to be so awkward?" he moaned to Austria.

"I don't know." Austria replied in his haughty, I'm-better-than-you-and-you-know-it voice. Holy Roman Empire sighed.

~:.:~^~:.:~

It all started when he found her sleeping outside and had a crazy image in his head about kissing her. He'd been minding his own business and WHAM; the idea struck him like one of Hungary's frying pans. Ever since then, he couldn't look her in the eyes. Was this what she felt, perhaps, back when she was scared of him? The roles were reversed now. For some reason or another, he was scared of her!

The fear was a strange fear, because it had a confliction bubbling around it. No matter how much he wanted to run away, there was some part of him that wouldn't let him run, that wanted him right there, by her side. He couldn't leave her. He never would. He could never bring himself to ever leave the little nation girl's side.

Every day, the image got stronger, more possible. They would play together. The maid girl and Holy Roman Empire would spend hours chasing each other around the yard until Austria scolded them until it was time to go inside, unless they hid. It took Hungary to find them once they'd found his maiden's prime hiding spots. Every day, he and the maiden grew closer. Whenever she was near, he felt like some part of him was finally complete, he was a nation, a whole nation, and his best friend, this beautiful little girl, was sharing her life with his.

When his maiden first said his name, he'd been sitting alone. The house had been tense lately, and he felt swallowed up by the strained atmosphere. He was sitting outside, enjoying the summer breeze, glad for some peace and quiet. He even felt comfortable enough to take his hat off and allow his hair to fall down freely. It was a good thing that Austria wasn't here to see, or he would be reprimanded for sure. Unfortunately, someone did see him.

"Holy Rome!" The name must have been too long for her to remember, and Holy Roman Empire didn't blame her. His name was three words long. He was frightened by her sudden appearance.

"Uh-" It was another one of those moments he wished he could remember her name.

"Thanks for the food!" she said. He said a curt thank you and ran, but on the inside, his heart was shining as brightly as the sun. She'd finally said his name!

When his maiden first held his hand, she was dragging him along on another of their childish adventures. He couldn't remember exactly what she had been talking about now, but he believed that it involved a tomato fairy and a pair of gloves she'd found the other day when she was by the river. (To this day, it is unknown as to whose gloves they were.) The minute he felt her touch, however, he would never forget. He thought he knew what warm was- a fire in the hearth, gentle sunlight, Austria's food, but this… this was warmth beyond simple warmth. Of course, in his panic, he dashed away in the most pathetic fashion that had ever been accomplished, or would ever be accomplished. Nevertheless, it had been worth it, even if Austria teased him…

"Holy Roman Empire, I told you to wash your hands! One of them is still dry!" he reprimanded, noticing one hand was still dripping and the other… was not. Holy Roman Empire didn't bother to deny that he hadn't washed his other hand. That would be a lie. He hated lies.

"But Austria, she held my hand! I don't wanna wash it off!" he blurted out, and immediately felt heat travel to his face. He turned away as Austria let out a light chuckle.

"She'll touch your hand again, Holy Roman Empire. Now wash your hand, or she may not want to touch it again." Well, that was a fate worse than death, so Holy Roman Empire did end up washing his hand….

As the months passed, in the winter, next to a cozy fire with the little maiden girl beside him, fast asleep after he'd read her a story, Holy Roman Empire realized his greatest wish: For the maiden nation to become a part of the Holy Roman Empire.

~:.:~^~:.:~

Today was that day. Today was one of his last chances. Today she would be outside, away from anyone's prying eyes but his. Today he would finally get the courage to tell her the truth, tell her what he'd been wanting more and more as winter melted into spring and fly upwards into summer. Today he would not give up and run away. Today, she would be his, and they could live together forever, and he would protect her.

Today was the day he would be brave. Today was the day he'd walk down the steps to the garden where she was working on a new crop from her older brother, Spain, called a 'tomato'. Today he would take her to a special part of the garden, where the lilies were in bloom and it was quiet. Today, with Austria's house in the background, he would stretch out his hand to her… and then he would take it in confederation. In human words, today was the day he would propose to her.

Holy Roman Empire felt nervous tension. He was about to go to war. He'd known for days. He didn't have much to give the little maid. All he had was his love for her, and that would have to do for when they would be separated when he was off winning a war and subduing his enemy. No one was going to prevent him from coming home. He'd never miss another of his little maiden's days again. He'd never leave her side again. The last time he did, his enemies had attacked her while she was out picking daisies in the meadow. That was the last straw. He'd destroy each and every one of his enemies; he'd make them bow down to him.

Holy Roman Empire walked down the cobblestone steps down to the garden. He forced his legs to move. He wouldn't let himself chicken out this time. He would be brave for her now. He let his hands brush the bright green foliage as he walked through the beautiful garden, and that's when he saw her. His breath caught in his throat, and a fresh fear caught him off guard. She was beautiful, sitting in a patch of sunlight, painting. He turned back to the house, where his own painting was stored. His painting of her was bulky, but he couldn't leave it behind. He'd never leave her. He couldn't bring himself to ever not be able to see her.

He didn't even have to call out to her. She seemed to sense his presence. She turned to him.

"Holy Rome!" she said, and ran up to greet him with a hug. He blushed profusely, but found the courage to hug her back.

"I… I…" the words were caught in his throat until he felt like he would be crushed to death by fear right there in his maiden's arms. He wanted to run away again; he wanted to be a coward. He'd regret it for the rest of my life if he didn't say this, however, so he had to push past his fear of rejection. She wouldn't reject him, right? They loved each other, which was all that mattered.

Whatever happened, their relationship would change forever. Would it be for the better, or for the worse?

When she released the Holy Roman Empire, he was flustered and weak in the knees. She expressed concern by asking if he was alright, by touching his face. She even asked if he'd been attacked, but this only made the situation worse. He could barely speak to the girl. Finally he held his hand out towards her, and barely choked out discernible words.

"W… Will you… join me… and become one… with the Holy Roman Empire?" he gasped out, holding his hand out. The girl's hand flew to her mouth in shock, and he watched those delicate lips gently touch her finger.

"No." there was tears in her eyes.

"No…?" he repeated, his heart feeling like it had split in two. She grabbed his hand and held it to her cheek, and he felt the tears. He really would never wash that hand.

"I don't want you to become big! I love you just the way you are! Grandpa Rome died because he got too big, and he had so many painful scars… I don't want that to happen to you, Holy Rome. I just want to be with you because I love you and I never want you to go away!" she started to cry. Holy Roman Empire felt tears coming to his eyes as well.

"I will never leave you…" He gasped, trying to choke down his own sobs. "Not forever, I swear! I'll always come back to you, just like a circle! We don't have an end." He promised as he held the crying girl in his arms. "I've loved you since the 900's… I'll love you beyond the 9000's… don't ever forget that, my dear." He said as he held her.

"You… love me?" she whimpered.

"Y-yes! Of course I love you!" He paused a moment. "My dear… How… how do people in your country… how do your people show affection?" he asked.

"They… they kiss, I guess." The maiden looked up to her knight in shining armor, and the sun was never warmer, no candy sweeter, no moment dearer to either heart than the moment that his lips touched hers, and in a moment, just one moment, a promise was made.

And the moment Holy Roman Empire felt France's sword pierce his body in the heat of his last battle, he knew he'd broken that promise. At least he finally remembered her name. It was Italy.

~:.:~^~:.:~

_Dear Romano, _

_ It's been so long. I don't know how I'm going to say this. I guess I'll start from _

_ The beginning. You know all about the Holy Roman Empire, right? Austria told_

_ Me that he died recently, and for a long time, I believed that I would die too. I _

_ Could never imagine my life without him, the love of my life. Brother, I realized_

_ That not only did I make a promise to Holy Rome, I made a promise to myself. He_

_ Was my ONE, my only one. There is a red string connecting us across time, and I_

_ Will never cut that string. I am going to be a big strong country for my beloved so_

_ I can keep his memory alive. To do that, I have to change myself… I never realized _

_ Just how much, however. I'm going to be male, so people will respect me. Someday_

_ I will be a country too, just like the Holy Roman Empire. When that day comes, my _

_ Dear fratello, we can be together again, and I don't ever want to leave your side._

_ Your past sorella,_

_ Italy_

~:.:~^~:.:~

Germany woke up to the sound of someone leaving him. Underneath the sounds of footsteps was the steady drip-drip of the IV, and a strong heart monitor, both on his left side. He turned to see a flash of blue, an auburn curl just outside the door, and a long purple jacket attached to the man standing at the door of what appeared to be a hospital room.

"Thank you for watching him these two days, Italy." Austria said.

"You know I could never leave his side." A tired and lonely-sounding voice said on the other end. The two left. Germany wanted desperately to call them out, but what could he say? He was still confused on what was going on, but he knew a couple things for certain: He was the Holy Roman Empire… and he was now certain why he had proposed to Italy about a year ago.

Because he loved Italy since the 900's.

He turned to his side, and there was a stool with two items on it. He raised himself up, feeling a little dizzy, and reached over to grab the note. Something fell into his hand, something small, golden and red. It was Italy's tomato ring. Tears formed in his eyes as he started to read the note. Italy had been waiting by his side for a long time before he woke up. At the end of the letter were two things that let those tears finally fall. The first was in his native tongue, German. The second was a desperate plea.

_ Ich Liebe Dich._

_ Please forgive me. _

This was my favorite chapter to write, because of all of Holy Roman empire's awkward moments. There was so much more I could have put in this chapter, but I try to keep them only ten pages and this one was really hard to keep it only 10... Agh...

Btw- Ich Liebe Dich- I love you in German.

1806 was the year the Holy Roman Empire died.

... I totally wanted to enlarge that scene, at least write a letter from Holy Roman Empire to Italy, but there wasn't enough room. Possibly, at the end of the story, I'll put some deleted scenes and fun facts about the story.

Also, we'll revisit some of the best scenes.

My favorite have been Holy Roman Empire acting like Tom from Tom and Jerry. Made my life when I came up with that. I'm like, "8D I must write that!" I had a similar experience writing about Holy Roman Empire not washing his hands.

P.S. The gloves mentioned earlier were actually Prussia's. Why he left his gloves at Austria's house, heaven only knows.

Now, as for that Real Life thing:

The entire time, Italy's been there by the bed, waiting for him to wake up, and I was thinking about what she'd be feeling. I was playing Drawn to Life 2 and I'm like, this is perfect, and I'm also like, *spoiler alert for DL2* "NOOOO MARI JOWEE DO NOT DIIIIEEE D:"

So there's the amazing story behind that.

Long Author's note is long.


	10. Missing Pages

_This is a song by seventh day slumber that remains very dear to me for unknown reasons. I guess I've always loved songs like this. If you want to kow another song similar to this, look up 'The Real Me' by Natalia Grant. Beautiful song! Another song I believe portrays this chapter is 'Caroline' by the same artist, but I thought issing pages would be a better title for this particular chapter._

_This chapter turned out a lot different than when I first thought about it. There are a whole lot more characters in it, originally it would just be our main 3 over here, Romano, Italy, and Germany. Now it contains not only these fellows but Japan, Spain, and Russia make an appearance. What was I thinking? I guess I remembered that I put this little thing under the humour and historical fiction (which is soly because that's what the anime itself was) and it turned out way funnier than originally planned. Don't you love it when characters decide their own story? That's when you can write them the truest, when you can literally hear them telling you what to write, when you don't have a plan but 'just go with it'._

_The song I listened to the most while writing this was 'Please Remember Me' by Tim Mcgraw. If you feel like listening to it, by all means do so. Its beautiful. I love country music, its so... much more... heartfelt than today's American poop. I mean pop. Or do I? Anyways, not here to rant about music. Just like to say I've really appreciated the support I've gotten for this story, and I remind you guys that the first one to comment on the newest chapter or suggests the best new song for the chapter 'Spare an Angel'. _

_ Long author's note is long. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Romano wished he could bandage more than her arm. He growled. This had happened every time something bad had happened to his dear little sister. As hard as he tried, he could never rescue her every time. The only one who could was the reason she needed to be saved, now. At least the other countries believed him at the conference when he said that Italy had simply caught a cold. No one would be coming around for a while. His sister would slowly mend.<p>

He wished he could have faith in that statement, but his hope was wearing thin. When he first found her at home, looking tired, he felt relief. When she told him she wouldn't talk to Germany again, he felt joy and a sense of triumph. Unfortunately, these emotions were short-lived as time passed, and he noticed she was crying. It was then he knew just how badly it hurt.

Now he wasn't so sure. He could honestly say he had no idea what Italy was thinking. As the days past, she stopped crying in the daylight. As the weeks past, he never heard her cry at night. This was great, right? She was getting over her grief and she would be just fine. At the same time, something told him that something was just… not right with Italy. On the outside she was happy, she was fine, but there was something he could barely detect, something just under the surface, that told him otherwise. Italy was a good liar, but she was his sister. There were some things he just knew.

Speaking of his sister, there she was, wearing a dress. He turned to her and tried to ignore the mark on her arm that had scarred about a week after she left the hospital.

"Romano! Wanna come play football with me?" she asked, holding up a soccer ball.

"In a dress?" he asked.

"I can't find my shorts…" she whined. He rolled his eyes. Italy was extremely disorganized.

"Idiot. You probably left them on the floor. Honestly, you're worse than Prussia." He rolled his eyes at Spain's idiot friend. "Just wear your boxers. They cover enough." Romano said. Italy nodded, and went back into the room they shared.

_Ten euros says she'll ask me where her boxers are. _He thought.

"Fratello, where are my boxers?"

"In the drawer next to the bed, stupid!" He yelled, and walked outside with the soccer ball to warm up. There was definitely something wrong with Italy. Her smile was just… unnatural. It was fake, plastered onto her face like a painting. Romano paused. That was it! That was what was wrong! She hadn't painted, hadn't doodled, and had hardly done anything on paper, ever since… she told the truth.

There was no easier way to read her than to look at her drawings.

"Italy! Change of plans!" he declared. Italy popped out, holding the top of her dress over her chest, wearing only her boxers. "We're going to draw." Italy looked shocked at first, and then nodded. She walked back inside and put her dress back on. When she came back, she had her sketchbook with her.

"We can't draw for long, Romano, remember?" she said. "Russia's coming over later." Italy pointed out, and he groaned.

"I know he thinks you're sick and all, but does he really have to try to be 'friends', as China explained?" Romano sighed, and looked out the door nervously. He definitely was not looking forward to Russia's visit. (Not that he looked forward to _anyone's_ visits, don't get the wrong idea!) Russia just scared the _crapola _out of him. He didn't know why Italy would be so calm about that.

Or was she lying about that, too?

"He's just trying to be nice…" she sighed, and looked at her dress, then at her arm. "I'm going to put a jacket on." She said.

"Yeah, you have-" There was loud rumbling, as if a tank was coming towards them. Romano cursed as he looked outside and saw Russia's tank pulling into their driveway. Italy came back out again, wearing a thick jacket. All former calmness was gone. Her face had paled to a sickly shade, and she ran back to hide behind the couch. Romano cursed again and scrambled beside her as loud knocking on the door echoed through the room.

"Here I am yay!" Russia called out. Romano roughly pushed Italy towards the door, and she grabbed anything that might protect her from the giant nation. Unfortunately, the only thing in arm's length was a blanket, which she swiftly wrapped around herself before she quickly opened the door. The last time they'd left Russia outside, he'd simply broken down the door. Romano didn't want to fix it again.

"Hi Italy." Russia said, enveloping the room with his massive proportions as he ducked into the door. Italy stood there, trembling in terror. Romano would have come to her rescue, but there was a fine line to what he would do for his sister. To stand up to Russia would be crossing that line. Russia put his hand on Italy's head, and she all but collapsed then and there.

"Italy, you don't look so good! You shouldn't be running around, you're not healthy!" Healthy enough, that is, to aid him in taking over the world… or simply to be friends. Russia 'guided' Italy to the couch, which basically meant he picked her up and plopped her there, and wrapped the blanket around her.

"You'll need more than one blanket, Italy! What has your brother been doing to you?" Russia frowned, looking like a pouting child. He rushed around, ransacking the house. Romano decided to forever forget the moment that Russia found girl clothes in Italy's closet. (It was lucky that Russia was too busy on his quest to really question why Italy had girl's clothes.) He came back with an armload of them… and promptly plopped them on Italy.

"I heard from your brother that you were sick with a cold, and when I heard that one of my friends was sick, I couldn't help but feel sad! Colds are common in Russia, so I know exactly how to treat it!" Italy felt a whimper rise in her throat. It sounded like he was just going to feed her chicken noodle soup. As… awkward as that would be, worse things had happened to her over the past week-and-a-half. Unfortunately, this was not to be, and for the next hour, Russia let her drink his vodka. By 'Russia let her drink it', Romano basically watched his sister drown in it.

Later…

"Romano, he was honestly trying to be nice…"Italy whimpered after she complained about the light shutting up.

"He was trying to become one with you!"

~:.:~^~:.:~

She built a glass wall, and every day she covered it with her fingerprints. Every day her hand would press against the glass, to reach out a hand to the outside world. Every day she would draw it back inside, a little sadder when she felt the lack of warmth. Every day the wall would get a little blurrier as she ran her hand along the barrier between her and the rest of the world, until she could hardly be seen. Locked from outside by a heart-shaped padlock, the smile would grow just a little dimmer… every day.

That smile that shone like sunlight was now frozen. It was plastered on. She painted it with the expertise of someone who had met pain before, and was still naïve about just how destructive it was. The smile was fake as the actress who wore it, and meant nothing, and what an actress she was. When lies are prolonged, one learns to believe them. So were they still lies?

True Love burns the brightest, but the brightest flames leave the deepest scars.

"I'm fine." Who could believe the phrase when the sweet smile that normally accompanied it was now like a piece of salmiakki in taste? The bright eyes that stared into your own and felt like someone sitting by a warm, crackling fire were now cold as a blizzard. The voice that could melt the hardest of hearts was now a stone in itself. Everything about her was not fine. She was not fine at all.

But no one bothered to correct her.

The one thing she wanted.

Tell her she was wrong.

She wasn't wrong, she really was fine.

No.

She missed Germany. She remembered every time she breathed that he was gone. She'd run her hands over bare arms and finger the scars left behind. Maybe it was better this way. All he'd ever done was hurt her after all, why should she miss him with the intensity that she did? Sometimes she wished she could simply forget him and move on.

But, she would move on. She would recover from this. She had to; she was a nation, not a simple person. Surely it would take more than this to bring her down on her knees in such pain? She had to believe she would recover. She had to believe she was fine. Whether it was lies or whether it was truth, it did not matter. It had to be believed.

The days kept passing. Every time she saw the sun rise, saw it fall, like a great empire that had gotten caught in a time lapse, she would draw a little deeper behind the glass. The days seemed blurry, like the fingerprints on the glass. Eventually, she could simply not feel life at all. Oh yes, she could pretend and lie to her brother about her state, but what was real could not be changed. She became apathetic, because it was the only way to not feel the pain. It was not feeling anything.

At least she had memories, good memories, to look back on. It wasn't all bad, being with him, the ever-faithful girl who just didn't know how to tell the truth. She could still remember when she first met him, staying in his home, being his friend for the first time. Her most precious memory she'd given away. It was that tomato ring, that precious tomato ring that proved just how much he loved her. She hoped he had memories of her.

"Please remember me kindly." She said aloud, and felt surprised to hear her own voice as she watched the moonlight crawl across the floor. She got up and looked outside, and felt tears coming to her eyes. She allowed them to come as she fell to her knees, repeating the words over and over. Someday she'd be okay. Today would not be that day.

~:.:~^~:.:~

"Italy! I'm going to make some pasta today!" Romano had been trying to be cheerful lately. Maybe it would shock me into reality again. Romano knew he needed to do _something _for the day, after all. It had been exactly a year since Germany had chosen to 'propose' to me. Today was Valentine's Day, Buon San Valentino, in Italian. It was our best day of the year…

But not today.

I put on my best smile as I walked into the room, but Romano could just barely detect the lie underneath the skin.

"Okay!" I tried to say with as much enthusiasm as possible. I loved pasta, right? It was food, and to stay alive, I needed food, but it just wasn't the same any more. It just seemed more like eating some kind of England's food or something. It wasn't that Romano was a bad chef. My taste buds had changed, or rather… had become obsolete.

"Italy…" Romano's spatula dropped to the ground as he turned to me, trembling. I wondered if I'd done anything to upset him. No, I couldn't have him mad at me too! I couldn't bear it… He ran out of the room. I picked up the spatula and turned off the stove as he left the house. I looked longingly at the other car, Incendio. I didn't want to be alone today, I couldn't be alone, but who could I go to?

The idea hit me. I could still go to Japan's, right? He never said he hated me. I wanted to know, anyways. Although he'd probably hate me for the rest of his life, it would just be another scar to add to my body. Another proof of how terrible lying could be. My decision made, I walked outside, got in the car, and put on my seatbelt. I was definitely going to Japan's…

The drive took me what seemed to be a very short time. It felt like only a few minutes when I arrived at that humble, beautiful home of my last close friend. A wave of fear hit me, and I found myself imagining I was at Germany's door again. I could open that door, embrace him, and take care of him during those headaches… No, I was at Japan's house. I couldn't think of Germany. I raised my hand to knock on the door, but Japan's seemingly telepathic abilities never cease to amaze me. He opened the door, and didn't seem the least bit surprised to see me.

I looked into his deep brown, almost black eyes. I could find no accusation in them, and I felt surprised. Why was Japan not angry with me like Germany was that I'd lied to him for so long? I fidgeted with my hands, feeling uncomfortable and confused. I couldn't meet his honest eyes. He was the kind one, the honest one, not me. I stared at his chest, having nowhere else to look, and felt my eyes drawn to the smile on his face. Why was he smiling? Confused, I found myself staring.

"Italy. I'm glad you're here." If words could possibly have any physical reaction on me, it would be that my entire body locked up in shock, and I felt some preconceived relief. He was glad that I was here? That was always a good sign when people ask others what they feel about something horrible they'd done. He beckoned me inside, and I snuggled under the kotatsu table, where I munched on something called 'Pocky'. Whatever it was, it was delicious. Japan was sitting across from me, sipping his tea.

"Italy." He said, catching my attention. "I know why you're here." Japan said, glancing at the scar on my arm. I turned away as a burst of fear and grief washed over me. I bit my lip so I wouldn't cry in front of Japan, but tears escaped anyways. Japan was going to reject me as well, wasn't he? My hands found each other and clenched, hugging each other fiercely as I looked down at Japan's shoes. I was waiting for judgment.

What I got I never expected. His next words shook me to the core. It was exactly what I never knew I wanted. What I never knew I needed came from my close friend, Japan… who knew exactly how to heal me.

"You know what you did was wrong." He paused, sipping his hot tea. I nodded. Yes, and I regretted it immensely. "And you bravely sought to change it." Wait, what was that? How was I brave? It was the most cowardly thing I'd ever done, lying to everyone because I was afraid of love and being loved... "You told the truth after so long… and though I do not like the fact you lied. You did tell the truth… so… Italy, I forgive you."

The sense of relief overcame me. I fell to my knees as a powerful emotion washed over me, but I wasn't scared. It was like I'd been drenched in acid, I could feel myself slowly die, and Japan just pulled me out. Although there was still pain, that crushing grief, the terrible fear, the whispers of the Great Liar himself, it ended right there on Japan's floor. I smiled genuinely for the first time in weeks that Valentine's Day, that beautiful February 14th, and I cried, but not with sadness.

Have you ever felt so happy you wanted to cry? The one time you don't mind feeling the tears fall down your face. You smile and laugh and feel better than you'd ever thought you could feel. Just when you thought you couldn't be happy again, a kind word from someone can break through the darkness clutching your heart and shed light on a dying soul, revitalizing it to a shining gemstone, precious and sacred. I was crying with joy on Japan's floor, and then I knew exactly what I wanted…

I wanted Germany to forgive me, too.

~:.:~^~:.:~

Although Romano would never admit it, the moment his sister came into the room, he'd felt fear creep up on him, and hoped his suspicions were wrong. He listened to her quiet feet on their kitchen floor and he announced he was making her favorite thing. If she was with him at all, she'd be happy. He was making it extra delicious, too! On the outside, she looked fine, beautiful, like perfectly sculpted clay, but on the inside, it was darkness.

Her honey eyes had lost their perfect light. He could just barely detect the pain that smothered that light like a basket over a candle. Was the light still there, just hidden? Or was it extinguished in its entirety? He was about to find out.

Terror. That's what he felt when he heard her voice. The fake cheerfulness almost hid her away; she hid her pain like ripping it from the book. She was a good actress; He was her brother. He could tell she wasn't what she seemed. His spatula dropped in shock when he heard her voice. His last hope was gone… That light had been hidden so deeply, choked by grief… She lost her light in her self-imprisonment.

So he ran. He couldn't handle this on his own anymore. He couldn't bear to see his sister in this shadowed reflection of the once bright country. It was as if the sun had turned into the moon, a place of warmth and life and pure, undefiled light had turned into a cold representation of death, forced to glow in spite of its wounds. Romano dashed outside, and took a look at that note treasuring the smiley face on a song she liked. Why did he feel like it was so important? She was finally a serious country…

But she was no longer who she was. She was hidden behind that fingerprinted glass until he couldn't see her anymore. She hardly ate anymore. She hardly slept anymore. There was only one person he could ask for advice, the only other person that had a radiance of sunlight. He couldn't bear to see his sister fade away. There was nothing he could do to bring her back.

All he could do was ask the priests to pray she wouldn't fade away completely, because he had no hope left. There was nothing he could do for her.

Perhaps, however, his friend Spain could shine on her, make her smile again. He'd always done it before, right? As much as the stupid tomato boss annoyed him, he was desperate. Spain had a way about him that just made people want to smile. If he couldn't help Italy, no one could. That was exactly why he was heading over to his former boss' house on Valentine's Day.

He hoped Spain didn't get the wrong idea…

He was greeted almost as soon as he pulled into the driveway.

"Romano! It's been so long since I saw you! You never come over anymore!" he complained, practically pulling the southern half of Italy out of the car. "I have some fried green tomatoes in the oven! Come in!" And so, without so much of a 'hi, boss', Romano was dragged inside the house. (He was cursing as colorfully as Spain's clothes.)

The brunette man straightened his red tie over his white shirt and handed the plate of tomatoes over to the reluctant country. He wasn't here to eat, _dannazione! _He sighed as he ate them. Sure, they were delicious, but…

"What is it?" Spain asked. Romano was uncomfortable with meeting the man's green eyes, and instead stared at the tomatoes that shared the shade.

"Italy." Romano said reluctantly.

"Is this about the fight she had with Germany?" Spain asked.

"H-how do you know?" Romano gasped, spitting the tomato in shock, and blushed scarlet in embarrassment when it got all over Spain's clean brown pants. Instead of getting angry, Spain just laughed.

"You look like a tomato~" he said, and left to get a towel. He did end up changing pants before he came back to Romano, however. Romano cursed at him, scowling vividly. He was a country, not a food! Spain sat back down, and Romano refrained from eating any more tomatoes until Spain was finished.

"To answer your question, I heard it from my friend Prussia." Spain said. "He heard it all from the basement. When he came up, he found Germany collapsed, blood on the wall, and Italy was gone. He guessed what had happened. It must have been a nasty fight…" Spain said sadly.

"It was! _dannazione!_" Romano burst out. "And now she's all wacked up, and she won't eat, and she won't sleep, and it's like… her light went out." Romano shouted. To be honest, he was terrified. "And I'm scared because I can't bring her back." He admitted.

"Romano…" Spain started when he saw tears concealed in Romano's eyes. Romano blinked rapidly. He didn't cry! He was the strong brother. Romano figured he already knew about Italy from Prussia. It was a miracle the annoying albino wasn't allowed at the world conference (as he wasn't really a country), or everyone would know by now.

"What is it, _bastardo_?" Romano growled.

"I believe I know exactly how to make your sister feel better." Spain said.

"What is it?" Romano's eyes lit up. There was a way to fix his sister.

"Well, it's something only Germany can do…" Spain started awkwardly. Romano reached for the phone to call his mafia. He could convince that _patata bastardo_ to do _anything _once his mafia was through with him! Spain watched him with a grimace. Romano glared at him.

"What?" Romano growled.

"It's not something that can be forced… It has to come from the heart." Spain said. "Germany has to forgive Italy." He said.

"H-How in_ inferno _am I gonna do that?" Romano burst out, jumping up so quickly that the tomatoes flew… and hit Spain's pants… again. Spain calmly went to change clothes… again, and came back to give him the answer with another joke about his beet-red face resembling that of a confused vegetable. (Or was it a fruit?)

"Never fear, my little tomato, because in these situations, all we need is a good, cheesy plan. And who is better than a good friend of mine to help in our master plan? Besides, he enjoys meddling in foreign affairs. He does it all the time." Spain picked up his phone.

"You don't mean…" Romano's eyes widened as Spain put sunglasses on.

"We're going to call America."

And a The Who song could be heard all around Spain and Southern Italy.

~:.:~^~:.:~

"_Fratello_! I know what I want now!" I yelled to my brother as I ran to greet him. I didn't care who else was in the car. I wanted my brother. Japan had driven me home earlier, and I couldn't wait until he returned. He'd know what to do; my brother would have a plan! I must have hugged him too hard, because he ended up on the ground.

"What is it?" he growled, pushing me off.

"We already know _mi pequeña Italia_." Spain said as he got out of the car.

"No! No you don't! I don't want food… Japan… he said what I wanted…" I felt tears coming to my eyes and I wiped them away roughly. I had to tell them! All I wanted was forgiveness! That was all I wanted, after all! It had been what I was seeking so desperately from him for so long… Germany… Spain hugged me tightly, allowing Romano to get up.

"Forgiveness, that's what it is, isn't it?" Spain asked. I gasped, and nodded. So they did know! Romano must have gone to Spain for advice… He really did care!

"We have a plan to get it back for you, _sorella_." Romano said, and opened the door for the last person in the car. My heart skipped a beat. Was it Germany? I didn't have time to be disappointed when someone practically jumped out of the car, already speaking a hundred miles an hour. It was like meeting my former self.

What was America doing here?

"I still can't believe you let _him _work on our plan." Romano growled.

"Hey! The hero, who will be known as 'Doctor Love' for the remainder of this epic plan, is totally qualified! I wrote the notebook, didn't I?" America shot back. He did have a point. Didn't he also write _Titanic_, too? I hoped we weren't getting on any boats…

"A-America…" I gasped as he shook my hand.

"Nice to see you again, Italy." He bowed in an exaggerated fashion. "So I heard you were having some boyfriend troubles?"

"Hey, -!" Romano smacked him across the face, and turned to me. "You dropped this. Go look it up. America, Spain and I have some talking to do." Romano waved me away, and I looked down at the note. It was the song I wrote down earlier. I nodded and walked into our workroom. The rarely-used computer had to be over 5 years old. I turned on the old system and typed in the song into YouTube. As I let the lyrics wash over me, I heard America tramp into the room near the end of the last chorus.

"Italy!" he yelled. I jumped out of my seat and crashed into the floor. He scared me so badly that I could only stare at him, shocked.

"W-what is it?" I asked, managing to get myself up.

"I've got a plan!" This could either be really good or really bad. I stared at him from behind the desk.

"Can you sing well?" America asked me. Caught off guard by the sudden question, I didn't know how to answer. I guess it depended on who was listening, so I sung a little Italian for him. He must have liked it, because he broke out in a grin. (Then again, this didn't mean anything. He also liked Rebecca Black.)

"I'm going to call one of my buddies, and we're going to pull of the best plan in history!" America exclaimed, and that week, I practiced. With every day I felt more scared. Could America's plan really work?

I was scared to find out.


	11. A Short Apology

Hello dear readers!

I apologize; it seems the writer is having some issues with this chapter. The original chapter included lyrics from a song that isn't public domain. It was more than a few lines, and as far as I know that doesn't follow rules here on fanfiction.

I know a lot of people wouldn't notice or flag anything, considering plenty of rules have been broken in the past, but I'd rather all the stories under my profile adhere to the guidelines. Call me a goody-two-shoes, but it's just a personal preference.

She's editing the chapter now and I hope to have it uploaded this evening.

If you want to go ahead and read this chapter, look up Raneko-chan on wattpad.

Also, if I've gotten any of the rules wrong, please let me know right away.

Thank you for your patience!


	12. White Flag

It was sleeting heavily on that depressing day, a week after Valentine's Day. The bar was filled to the brim that night with those who'd failed in Valentine's Day endeavors. Ireland, the owner of that bar, was filling glasses like there was no tomorrow. His biggest customers were both here tonight, and one of them was sorely depressed. This meant he would make big money tonight. He'd even booked some entertainment for the evening by a woman he'd never seen before, but she had a decent voice, he guessed. She sort of reminded him of that one guy, Italy.

Outside, the wind howled, but on the inside, it was cozy and warm. It was perfect for those who had to lick their romantic wounds. A cheerful fire roared in the back of the room. A couple nations were sitting on a bear pelt, talking of previous exploits and other such fantasies. The walls were a dark shade of mahogany, giving the room a hunter's lodge feel. The design was like that of a log cabin. The floor, and the rest of the bar, was wood, a beautiful, polished wood. On the outside of the bar was a payphone for calling friends who'd remained sober enough to drive.

Germany was sitting alone on a bar stool. Prussia had recently left after giving him various pep talks, mostly along the lines of 'you'll forget about her and find someone else'. Meanwhile, Prussia was off playing darts with Hungary. Germany wasn't so sure if he wanted to forget. There were good memories too… but she was more than just a simple memory. The past few weeks he'd been coping rather well when his past and present came crashing together. He fingered the ring on a separate chain than his iron cross thoughtfully. There was one thing he didn't cope well with, however.

He'd lost Italy.

In a fit of rage at being lied to, in fear that Italy… that /she/… would hurt him, he knew only he didn't want to be hurt, he didn't like to be lied too… and then he knew why she lied. It was for him all along.

Not that she knew.

There had been countless times he'd call her number, and hang up before he even heard it ring. There were times he'd just drive through Italy to see if he could spot her among her people. There were times he dreamt she was still there, waking him up.

"Germany! Germany!" for a second he thought it was her, and he looked up from his beer only to have his hopes dashed and see Spain coming towards him, dragging Romano. Italy's brother glared daggers at him, but he was used to this. What he wasn't used to was that Romano also looked a little… nervous. Spain, meanwhile, was distracting all of his brain cells.

"Did you hear about the entertainment tonight? I brought Romano along to listen to them." Spain asked, sitting down next to him. Romano had his hand on his phone. Germany guessed it was to call his 'mafia' or whatever. Germany fiddled with his messy hair -he hadn't bothered to do his hair- and felt nervous as well. Romano's mafia were… not to be trifled with.

"No, what's the name?" Germany asked.

"Feliciana." Spain said. It sounded so familiar…

~:.:~^:.:~

I was ready. It was time to finally get it right. This would be the time that I would finally succeed. America gave me a thumbs-up and I nodded, ignoring the urge to give him a hug. He took care of that for me, by giving me a quick hug.

"Knock them dead, Italy." he said with a big grin. I nodded, and gripped the microphone. The music started playing. A couple of countries and their people looked over, but most were nonchalant. I didn't care for them. I saw a blonde-haired man in the crowd. This song was for that man, that country… This was for Germany. The song began and I scanned the room, briefly wondering if Japan was here. He was not.

I saw Spain, Romano, and Germany sitting together. Was that good or bad? The song began and my voice entered the microphone. I was a little shaken at how loud my voice seemed with this microphone. My stage presence was awful, and I knew it because America's coach told me so. I could only stand there, unmoving, my lips the only thing showing I was alive. I wanted to run away.

Amber eyes met aquamarine, and my breath quickened. My heart started to pound, and I was unsure if I could finish the song, because Germany was looking right at me. He recognized me. Germany had heard my voice, the most expressive instrument known to man. Was he listening to my words?

I nearly choked on the line, 'I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder or return to where we were'. I would love it if that would happen- that we could be friends again- but my most fervent wish seemed so farfetched. I self-consciously wrapped my arms around each other and felt a little recoil where my finger delicately raced over a scar. I'd hurt him too deeply to be considered a friend. I'd left a scar on him, as well- an emotional one. All I wanted for him to forgive me for causing him that pain, that pain that we both knew. That was what I longed for with every word of the song, for him to forgive me and show me mercy just like Japan did.

That one passionate, slightly fanatical wish was the reason I was standing on this stage right now, clutching the microphone and squelching an uncharacteristic, severe bout of stage fright, and why I couldn't bring myself to run away like I'd done so many times before. I was going down with this ship. I wasn't going to surrender this time, for the first time. I destroyed my white flag. I was going to sing this song in front of practically every country I knew, for just one country's ears. I wanted him to know exactly how I felt about him. I never intended for this to happen, I never intended to hurt him, I had to make him see that!

I wasn't running away any more.

Whatever was his reply to my heartfelt words, I would listen to them with an open heart and an open mind. He deserved that. Until the song was over, I had his full attention. In these precious 3 minutes of our time, I had an incredibly important message to convey to Germany. I needed to make him understand.

That was why I was here, holding this microphone, having trained for this day until my throat felt raw from singing, practicing, constantly.

That was why words were escaping my lips intertwined with music, that beautiful song known as 'White flag'.

That was why I could look right at him, right into those beautiful forget-me-not eyes.

I'm not asking him to take me back. I'm not asking for him to just simply go back to where we were. I could see with unclouded eyes. Our friendship, if you could even call it that at this point, would never be the same. It hadn't been the same since the unveiling of the painting of me as a child, the one Austria had restored. The Christmas party hinted at something more. Today, February 21st, there was nothing. When we are on our knees, isn't there nowhere to go but up?

I'm not asking him to love me too. He'd said it himself, he thought he had at one point, but after that… well, I have the scar to tell you what exactly happened after that. Did that mean he really didn't love me at all? He just _thought _he did? Is that why he was acting strangely when he gave me the ring? Could he not decide if it was given in friendship or love…?

I'm not even asking for him to talk to me after this.

All I want is forgiveness from him.

The chorus of the song came back, and I was unsure how I managed to focus long enough to remember the words. My mind was racing, my heart was racing, and my breath was racing. I could barely hold myself down. I took down my white flag. I was never going to run away from the truth any more. I am who I am. I am surprised to find no tears in my eyes. America's singing coach watched me cry almost every time I sang this, because the words were so true. They were meant for me. I just hoped Germany listened to them too. How many times would it take for me to get it right? Could this be my last chance to show Germany just how I felt about him?

The last verse of the song struck me. My heart was being poured out into words. It was as if I'd written the song myself. A prayer went out from the depths of my soul to God that Germany was listening to my words. All of them were true, all of them as much my own as the artist's.

We couldn't go through life simply ignoring each other's presences. Whether we liked it or not, we had made a pact of steel when his pinky met mine and we became intertwined into each other's fates forever, almost like my and Holy Roman Empire's kiss. Whenever Germany would go to war, I'd be right there beside him, helping him the best I could. We were allies, or as my new friend Russia would say, we are 'comrades'. No, we were more than just comrades. He was more than a memory of a blue-eyed blonde empire from my childhood, the one I never saw again. He was Germany. I was Italy. I was his. We promised each other this on that bright sunny day before World War II ravaged us both.

Someday, if World War III ever came, he would still train me for war because I was his ally and I had to be strong for him, for our team. He would train me harder because we were friends and he was afraid for the day he might not be around to protect me. Someday, as he would train me extra hard, he'd tell me to get my act together, just as he did back in World War II. After I complained about him working me too hard, he would relent and he, Japan, and I would all go out for food, normally pasta or something home-made from Japan. Someday, Germany might forgive me enough for the previous scenarios to play again.

I wouldn't beg for his forgiveness, however. He had to give it to me when he felt he was ready, and there was nothing I could do to make that day, those words, come sooner. I couldn't change the way he felt about me. He could, he had to, think for himself. I started to walk off the stage, towards him, forcing myself forward. It was probably the first motion I'd ever done on stage. My microphone was wireless so I didn't have to worry about the cords tripping me.

And maybe after this we could move on. We could go on with our lives as if this fiasco never happened, denying its existence in History like we did so many other bad things that happened to us. We could pretend that we were okay, because it wasn't as if we had a gaping black hole between us. I'd run that extra mile after he told me to do so, and I would feel tired and complain to him. He'd chastise me for complaining, Japan would unintentionally upstage me with some amazing ninja feat of some sort, and the three of us would say that we were totally fine. My footsteps were drowned out in the music. I kept singing.

But are we really okay with this? Were we okay with acting like all was normal when it was so obviously not so? How could I go on living like this? I couldn't. This was all I never wanted when I told you the truth. I can barely look back on that day, even now. It was the day we became nothing.

Will we settle for this nothingness? These empty desires will continue to tear us, to tear me apart. We will be ripped and torn to pieces unless we throw away our pride. I had to hang on to the faint star of hope in the difference that perhaps you could forgive me. I feel like a porcelain heart shattered on the ground. Only you can pick up my pieces, Germany, and put them back together.

I was halfway across the room. I walked faster. I was running. I wanted to finish this where he could see me, in front of him. I ignored everyone's stares of confusion. I ignored the fact I was posing as an entertainer so I could have control of the microphone when Germany was here. This was what I came here to do, and I wasn't leaving without achieving the goal. I only have one question for you, Germany.

I will not settle for this. I will not settle for the gap that lies between us. I cannot accept defeat, not this time. I can't run away any more. I can't be a coward any more. I will not let the pages of our lives fade out like this, an unfinished story. This was not going to be our end!

I love you, Germany. I've loved you since the 1900's. I don't care if my love is unrequited. I don't care if you don't care about me. I'm running towards you now, and it's a miracle I don't fall in these shoes. I guess I'm doing the right thing, because I don't regret it. You never regret doing the right thing.

All I want is you to forgive me, so here I am, in front of you. Can you see the desperation in my honey eyes? Can you see me now? Can you hear me now? Please listen to me Germany! Please… The music stopped. Everything is silent. Everyone is holding their breath and waiting for us. Everyone wants to know what happens now. I feel a rush of gratitude to America when I see the blinking red light of my cordless microphone die. So it turned out that he'd read the atmosphere, after all.

The microphone is turned off now. It's just you and me now, Germany.

"Please forgive me."


	13. Believe in Rewinding

"Please forgive me."

He wanted to believe he could rewind the past. He wanted to believe he could rewind to before all this happened. He wanted to believe he could rewind to change everything… but he couldn't. There was no magic remote. He couldn't change the past. All that was left was the present. In the present, she was standing in front of him.

Her request was a simple one. Forgiveness was so simple at first, but it truly required a brave person, an unselfish person. Someone who could look past their woes and see someone else's was required. Could he be that person to Italy? Only he could give her what she wanted. He could give her what she needed, couldn't he?

He stared at the girl before him; the one he thought was a guy. She didn't look like a man anymore. For one thing, she was wearing an evergreen dress that brought out the red highlights in her rich copper hair. Her curl caught the light and illuminated that face. She'd changed so much over the few days. She was the coldest nation he'd ever seen. Her eyes had one last glimmer of hope, but were otherwise like someone who had died. Her tan skin had paled. The warm smile he'd always looked back on as his source of strength was gone.

He wanted to take her in his arms suddenly, put some warmth back inside her. How could he do this? There was no manual he could find that dealt with apologizing for hurting your friends who lied to you about their gender and made you think you were gay. What could he possibly say that could heal her? He knew it all rested on him. She wanted forgiveness from him. How could he give it to her?

What he really wanted was that this had never happened. He took another look at her. Her spaghetti-strap dress, while modestly hid any cleavage she could possibly have (which was next to none), left her shoulders wide open. Two scars were prominent on her left shoulder. On the shoulder itself, it appears like someone had shot her repeatedly. On her arm, it appeared to be a stab wound. He looked closer. A recent stab wound.

He'd caused both scars.

She was asking for /his/ forgiveness? He should have been asking for hers! What would she say if he asked for hers in return for his? Would she refuse him? All eyes were on him, but he chose to ignore them. He felt Romano's glare digging into his back. He ignored the tomato guy. Italy had to be his main focus. He had to tell her he forgave her. He'd watched her stand alone for so long with the secret; A secret that was for protecting him, for cherishing his memory. Because she thought he was dead.

Or at least, she thought Holy Roman Empire was dead.

He'd been the reason they were standing here now, in both accounts. If he hadn't lost his memory, Prussia wouldn't have informed everyone that he'd died. If Prussia hadn't informed them he'd died, Italy would not have nearly gone insane from despair. If she hadn't felt the despair, she never would have made the pact. If she didn't make the pact, she wouldn't have to lie. If she didn't tell the lie, she wouldn't have to tell the truth. If she hadn't told the truth, he wouldn't have gotten angry at her. If he hadn't gotten angry, he wouldn't have hurt her. If he hadn't hurt her… they wouldn't be here now.

He took a shaky breath. "Italy…" he paused, licking his lips. What could he say? What were the correct words in this situation? He was so afraid to fall, so afraid he'd hurt her again… He had to be brave for her. He couldn't doubt her. He'd tell it to her straight. She deserved that, after waiting for him for a thousand years.

And even if he didn't know it, he'd been waiting for her, too.

Time stood still between them, beauty and the beast. Whose soul was pure enough to be the beauty? Who was truly a 'beast'? He wouldn't let this moment go to waste. He needed to tell her. Everything in their lives had led up to this moment. Every breath she ever breathed had been waiting for this moment, depending on him. She'd always depended on him, even to tie her shoelaces.

Speaking of that, she was wearing heels. She was a centimeter taller now.

"I… I…" he sighed. "Have been waiting for you… so I could tell you… I… I forgive you… and… I wanted… you to know… that…" he stammered. "Please forgive me, too." His hand unconsciously traced the scar on her arm.

She stood there, looking at him, and then smiled. She hugged him tightly. "I forgive you." She whispered. He felt her crying on his shoulder, and he hugged her back, in front of everyone. Prussia would tease him for a month about this. There was one more thing he needed to tell her, just one last thing. He simply held her, waited for her sobs of joy to stop.

And when they did, he whispered, ever so softly in her ear, "I've loved you since the 900s." and took off his chain… and placed that tomato ring back where it belonged… on her finger.

"My epic plan was a success! Let's get drunk and have a party!" America yelled into the microphone. (Where did he get that?)

~:.:~^:.:~

"Hey America!" Russia yelled, running up to the United States with possibly the largest bottle of Vodka ever viewed on the entire world. The only thing that could top it, of course, was America's giant beer can (in Lavaca, Arkansas, respectively). America turned from listening to (laughing at) England, and greeted with the traditional, "hey commie!" Someone yelled from beside him (Canada) that Russia wasn't communist anymore, but as usual, America ignored him, because, as usual, everyone ignores Canada. (Who?)

"Knock knock!" Russia yelled.

"Who's there?" America yelled even louder.

"Vodka!" Russia said.

"Vodka who? ~" America cheered.

"Vodka, I want!" Russia cheered even louder than America and took a deep swig from his drink.

"DUDE! THAT MAKES NO SENSE IN ENGLISH!" America yelled, and started to giggle.

"WHAT'S SO FUNNY, YA BLOODY-"

A self-conscious blonde girl hid behind the bar counter where Italy and Germany were deep in conversation, but about what, she didn't care. She was focused on the platinum blonde dead ahead, obviously dead drunk. She fiddled with her dress and stared from her little bunker behind the counter. A red-haired man looked at her with a curious expression, but with one of her glares, he simply walked away. Most people did. Most people were afraid of her.

Russia was not.

Russia did not see her the way others saw her. While others looked on her, they would not meet her eyes. She could see the fear held in their eyes, no matter who they were. What she saw in Russia's violet eyes, however, was a calm, child-like acceptance. 'It's who you are' his eyes would say, 'and I accept that'. It was because he knew he was scary too. He knew what it was like to see the fear in other's eyes and know they wouldn't accept you because it was both human and nation nature to feel fear, and to treat the feared much differently, whether good or evil.

However, as time passed, even Russia began to fear her. Belarus could sense it, and even felt something abominable in herself as well. She feared something, just like everyone else. The thing she feared most was losing Russia, losing his calm acceptance, losing her only chance for the other nations to accept her when she felt the violence take over her. She wanted Russia to accept her forever. She wanted him to marry her, to seal a promise of acceptance. She wanted him to love her. Unfortunately, this chance was growing less and less dim, and she grew increasingly desperate for his acceptance, his love, and then there was a spark of hope.

_Make him run towards you._

Despair had set in after she'd been kicked out of America's party. How could she make him run towards her when all he did was run away? She'd settled for watching the party, watching other's examples. She found that the best examples came from her idiot sister and that other guy (well, he was female, apparently, which explained a lot) who were at the party with their crushes. The best tactic in the love war was acting weaker than you were. After careful consideration of the brunette's strengths and previous battle exploits, she noticed a pattern. Italy was acting weak around Germany. Ukraine was acting weak around Canada. That's when she got her brilliant plan. She would act weak like the other nations. She would make Russia run to her.

Belarus was here now, ready to show Russia what she'd do for him. She walked out into the open. Russia was sitting with America, who was equally drunk (or did he act like that all the time?) and was smiling wide. She reached out a hand and gently tugged his tan coat, her hand brushing against his scarf. A twinge of jealousy coursed through her when she remembered how much he cherished the scarf Ukraine gave him.

"Big brother?" He looked a little startled by her presence, but nonetheless, somehow, someway, they ended up occupying the table and were enjoying a civil conversation over cold, vodka-soaked pizza (Russia frequently spilled it. There was a limit to how much alcohol he could take, and he'd surpassed it about five bottles ago.)

"Hey Belarus?" Russia asked, grinning widely. Belarus felt a blush in her cheeks when her 'brother' said her name. (Nation relations were a little strange. They'd grown up together, but they were not actually related. There was something similar going on with Prussia and Germany, or Italy and South Italy. 'Brother' was about the closest human term they could come to when describing something other than human.)

"Da?" she asked.

"You're pretty." He giggled. "Just thought I'd let you know."

"T-Thank y-"Then she tasted vodka. At first, she was unsure what exactly was happening now. Her heartbeat quickened. Blood rushed to her head. Her eyes just barely caught glimpses of a pair of violet orbs staring back at her, and then it was over, just as quickly as it began. She unconsciously licked her lips, and felt like crying out with joy when she realized what just happened. Russia had kissed her.

"You have become one with Russia, da?" And then Russia passed out. That was okay, though. She could take care of him. She didn't mind helping him after he had a hangover. She didn't mind as long as she could stay by his side. And so, Belarus drove Russia home and made sure all the lights shut up, that he had aspirin, and that he would be okay, because she wanted to tell him something when he woke up. "Thank you, Russia."


	14. At the Beginning

_A/N: This is the last chapter of my story. I'm not going to lie, I've become so attached to this story, to these characters, that I... I... It's like I was born to write this story. There are themes in this story I found myself writing based on my own experiences, my own emotions, to the point where I thought I was Italy while I wrote it. This is the first story I have completely finished because I simply couldn't bear to leave it at... well, I just had to finish it._

_I still can't believe it's the last chapter, I feel like I'm going to cry..._

_Before I start sobbing, I'd like to tell you this: I will have a special chapter after this filled with fun facts, deleted scenes, and other goodies. I do hope you'll request a scene you wanted to see but I wasn't able to put it in. Please comment/review below. ^.^ It would mean a lot to me._

_Derp, fluff, and Frisbees. That's all I can describe this chapter as. I don't know what half this stuff is... _

_Thank you so much for reading until the end, it means so much to me! All the views, all the comments, all the reviews, all the votes... Just... Have a hug. I'm going to go sob in a corner now._

_By the way, the context of the old man? I will put that in aforementioned chapter of goodies. ^.^_

Germany was never good with anything involving romance. So when he realized he was probably going to have to have some amazing plan for asking Italy to be more than his closest friend, he about had a panic attack. This had actually happened once before, more than a year ago. He had finally decided he would propose to Italy, back when he was a little confused about the gender of his best friend, and took Italy out to Giuseppe's for a romantic dinner. Upon arriving he found Italy conversing with the local girls (about pasta) and believed Italy was flirting with them, and thus cheating on him. He tried to contain his anger when Italy obviously didn't know what he… she… did wrong, and Germany decided it was best to take this in baby steps.

When he got to the table, they were met by a Swedish waiter, who was also confused by Italy's gender. (Who wasn't at this point?) He started freaking out when Germany finally worked up the courage to pull the ring from his pocket. The ring couldn't have been more perfect, but the night was as far from perfect as possible. Germany gave Italy a bouquet of flowers, but for some reason, Italy seemed to be afraid of him. He guessed it had something to do with his earlier gruff manner. When he gave the ring to Italy, that's when things just fell apart. He handed the ring to Italy, who was apologizing desperately. Germany, supposing it was rejection, flat-out had a panic attack right there in the restaurant.

This was why he'd generally avoided the entire subject altogether with Italy lately, even after they'd explained their shared childhood. There were some things he'd rather not remember, that and a spider incident were among those memories. There was one thing about dating Italy that scared him more than even Romano (or spiders), and that was hurting her. It had been a constant in his mind ever since he saw the two scars, and knew he caused both of them.

Of course, Romano was going to be a problem as well. Germany had recently read in a manual called _1001 Ways to Be Romantic_ (his Christmas present from France) that developing a positive relationship with the sibling was a good relationship helper. Well, that meant asking Romano for permission to date Italy. Germany chuckled grimly whenever he thought about it.

Romano wouldn't allow him to leave Italy (the country, not the… country?) alive.

And so, Germany was in a bit of a bind. Unfortunately, he was not allowed to think about this dilemma for long, because then something smacked on his window. He looked up from the table and saw Italy and Japan playing Frisbee outside in his yard. He felt a smile grace his lips and tried to ignore the fact that Italy was creeping away from the window with a suspicious-looking face. She must have been the one to hit the window. Japan was running towards him, most likely trying to apologize for Italy's clumsy behavior.

"Germany! I'm sorry we hit your window…" Japan said as soon as he opened the door. Italy ran in beside him.

"Germany! Come play Frisbee with us! It's not as fun without you!" Italy whined. Germany remembered when, before the Christmas party, she'd claimed Romano was more fun than him in order to goad him into going.

"So I'm more fun than Romano, now?" he asked.

"Uh…" Italy smiled nervously. "Yeah! Now play with us, it's a beautiful day!" She grabbed his hand and Germany let her pull him outside. She was right about her earlier comment about how beautiful a day it was. Spring had finally landed in Germany, and the flowers were just poking out. The grass was rapidly getting greener by the day. A light breeze made sure the sun did not make his land too warm, and as a result, all they needed was a light jacket. Even Italy was comfortable in the early spring they were experiencing.

"Germany! Catch!" Italy's throw was a little weak, but Germany managed to dive forward and grab it before it hit the ground, and threw it at Japan, who caught it with ninja ease, and threw it to Italy a little too hard. She had to run to grab it.

"I got it!" she declared excitedly, and threw it back as hard as she could. ""Germany, pass it back to me! I'll go long!" She said, and began running. Germany grinned. Though he wasn't sure he could _quite _throw it that long, he was sure he could at least throw it over the pond. So he threw it as hard as he could, which, considering his strength, was quite long. Unfortunately, it was not quite long enough and… landed in the pond. Italy looked at it dejectedly, and then yelled,

"Germany! Please get it for me!"

"_Nein_!" he replied. "I'm not jumping in the water for a Frisbee! We can just get another one!"

"But that one is special!" she yelled.

"It's a Frisbee!"

"Please, Germany?" At this point, Japan happened to mention that he _did _have another Frisbee, and the former plaything was forgotten.

"Pass it! Pass it!" the afternoon was spent in this matter, and despite the fact he did not get much work done, or figure out his new dilemma, Germany did not mind spending the afternoon in such a frivolous manner. He did not often have time to do things such as this. He was normally working hard on whatever his boss told him to do. It was good to kick back every once in a while. Especially if kicking back meant that he could spend the day with his two best friends. They were all now sitting in his living room, Italy claiming the couch, and Japan looked comfortable in the recliner.

"Italy, I've been meaning to ask you. What was the deal with your 'conquer list' book? Are you bisexual or something?" Japan asked. Italy laughed.

"No, nothing like that, I'm straight. If you guys had noticed all I did was give people compliments and talk about cooking, which I do with guys, too. That conquer book? I'm trying to make friends with someone from every single country." Italy said. "So far, I've got almost everyone but one Asian country, a couple of islands, England, and Prussia."

"England is insane…" mumbled Japan.

"Italy, Prussia doesn't exist anymore." Germany pointed out.

"The Awesome Prussia does exist!" The silver-haired man yelled from the basement.

"Shut up, Prussia, you do not exist!" Germany stamped on the floor to shut him up. Japan and Italy shared a look that read 'did that really just happen' and turned away with awkward looks.

"Yes I do! I exist in Canada!" Italy was startled when Prussia's head burst through the floor, and in the cliché manner that girls do, jumped into Germany's lap, who at that moment got up to beat Prussia back through the floor. Well, in a way that no one can explain and is probably not very probable so don't try it, both Germany and Italy ended up in the floor, next to Prussia's head.

"Hi." Prussia said.

"It's the old man!" Italy exclaimed, and another strange thing happened. Italy got mad and kicked Prussia's head back down into the basement, and Germany couldn't help chuckling at Italy's new nickname for Prussia. He'd have to use it sometime.

'Old Man'. He decided he'd get the context later. He got up, and noticed Italy was glaring at the hole in the carpet.

"Italy, are you okay?" Japan asked tentatively. Italy grinned at him.

"Of course! I've wanted to do that to that stupid old man for a long time."

"…why?"

"He told me Germany was dead! Well, Holy Roman Empire who is Germany anyways." She huffed.

"… I do not understand…" Japan said. "Could you explain? Who is Holy Roman Empire?" he asked.

"Of course! Okay, so first of all, Austria captured me. You know he and Holy Roman Empire used to rule over me, right?"

"_Hai_, I am familiar with your culture."

"What you are not familiar with, however, is just how close the Holy Roman Empire and I actually were… You see Japan… we were in love." Italy let out a dreamy sigh.

"And from what I heard, that Italy wore dresses." Germany chuckled. Italy flushed.

"You heard about that?" Italy asked.

"… Italy, everyone's heard about it by now." Germany pointed out.

"Thanks to Japan, of course." The two turned their gaze on the nervous Asian man.

"I'm sorry. I did not think America could get to a phone that quickly…." Japan said with a little bit of flustered awkwardness. Italy laughed.

"It's okay. He already knew about it anyways." Italy said.

"When did America find out about this?" Germany asked.

"He was the one who taught me to sing." Italy replied.

"That explains so much…" After Italy gave him an inquisitive look, he decided to drop the subject. "So what Italy and I were explaining earlier Japan… we grew up together, and I developed a crush on her. Before it could get anywhere, however, I was sucked into a horrible war. I tried many times to write to Italy but nobody would accept the task of walking all the way back to Austria to deliver a small boy's letter. I began to lose hope that I would ever see Italy again. Not only that, in the back of my mind, I knew how it was going to go. Ever since I stepped off the grounds… I knew this was a war I would lose. As defeat grew closer and closer, one thing kept me going. I promised Italy I would come back. I needed to come back." Germany explained.

"But you didn't…" Japan said.

"_Nein_… but I thought I would. I had to believe that. Italy became my battle cry. I was fighting so I could come back. I didn't want Italy to be lonely any more. All I could do about it though, was remembering a time before all this war. But, in 1806… even that right was taken away from me. I don't remember much from around that time… France took me apart, piece by piece. The shock of his sword, piercing me, ripping me apart… It must have put me into shock which somehow damaged the part of my brain that stored memories… I don't know how, we didn't have the technology at the time to tell you exactly what caused it… but what was important was this: All memories from being the Holy Roman Empire were gone. That meant all memories of Italy were gone too. Austria and Prussia must have decided to tell everyone that I was dead, because in a way, I really had died that day. When I woke up, Prussia told me who I was, who I am now. I'm Germany now." Germany explained.

"I do not think they should have lied to everyone…" Japan said.

"I didn't like it either… I really thought you were dead." Italy felt tears coming to her eyes, as it was still a rather raw subject. Granted, it was a little happier now that she had discovered Germany (Holy Roman Empire…) was alive.

"I think we've all see what lies can do." Germany said, awkwardly changing the subject… into something worse. The other two looked away a little awkwardly.

"So Italy, what are you doing tomorrow?" Japan asked, noticing the awkward atmosphere instantly.

"Oh! Germany and I are going on a picnic." Italy said beaming at him with that old radiant smile, which seemed even brighter, if that was possible. Anything was possible with Italy. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, America's having another party-" Italy stiffened up.

"As long as Germany goes with me!" she said. "And America!" They had gotten rather close when the Germany disaster happened.

"I don't think Germany would let you go to a party alone… ever." Japan gave a rare smile, and with that, the plans were decided. Germany felt the need to wrap his arm around Italy, and pulled her close, much to her delight. (She showed that delight with a Ve~. He had begun to miss those little sighs.)

"Be surprised I'm letting her go at all." He said evenly. Before Japan could reply, there was a loud knocking at the door and Germany immediately felt a dash of panic. Romano was here, and Germany had to tell him about his and Italy's… relationship. (Which he wasn't quite sure of the state yet… They were more than friends, but…)

Well, Romano's reaction went a little like this: "Today, the Southern half of Italy has invented a grand total of 32 new curse words, the world record to be invented in one day, and he did it in less than 30 minutes. Please check the news site for a list of words never to say again. Among this list, please refrain from calling any southern Italian your 'cupcake'. Just… don't."

~:.:~^~:.:~

"It's so pretty out…"Italy said as she sleepily leaned on Germany's shoulder. They were sitting underneath a birch tree in a nearby park, enjoying the last crumbs of the picnic she and Germany had cooked together. Germany finished the last bit of his sandwich (they'd decided to go for something simple) and nodded.

"Ja, it is nice." He agreed, and turned to her. "Siesta?" he asked.

"Yeah…" she yawned.

"Just… leave your clothes on, okay?"

"I always do…"

"A tank top and boxers do not count." Germany said, and was relieved to see Italy had already fallen asleep next to him… Italy, meanwhile, had fallen into a dream, but she wasn't sure if she was awake or not. She was leaning against something tender yet strong, and looked up to see blue eyes looking back at her. At first her heart gave a start, but then she saw the black hat. Her hand reached out, just to see if the humongous thing on the boy's head was real, and to her delight, its soft folds allowed themselves to be delicately caressed by her fingertips.

"Ve~ Holy Roman Empire…" _Germany… _The same person, the same man she loved… here he was in her dreams. Why did he visit her now? She was his again, she'd be his forever. They'd been in love for a thousand years. A thousand more, no demon nor angel nor human nor nation could keep them apart. She wouldn't let anything take him away again. She hugged him tightly, just glad he was back, and he was safe in her arms. She cried with joy, just as she had when Germany whispered those words in her ear…

_I've loved you since the 900's_…

Something was wrong. The blackness that he normally wore was expanding.

"Holy Rome?" she asked, and then cried out his name more fervently. "Holy Rome!" maybe she should try his new name, "Germany! Germany please come back!" the darkness expanded rapidly. She couldn't see him anymore; she was stuck in the suffocating cloth darkness.

She was all alone. She was all alone again. The tears were not tears of joy again. She had to run; she couldn't let anything separate her and her long lost love! Pushing through the folds, she ignored everything but her eyesight, which had caught sight of something. She pushed through the folds, and felt something grip her back. Sweet words whispered in her ears. She had to go on; she could just see the light. She stretched out her hand, barely in reach of that beautiful light, which seemed to grow brighter. As it grew larger, the darkness lost its hold. The words whispered quieted, and she was set free. She sailed forward to the light, but as soon as she touched it, everything stopped. Was she… back in the meadow?

"Italy…" a voice whispered. She felt a surge of joy. "Holy-" Arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders, cradling her close. Dark clothes, just like the ones Holy Roman Empire would wear, but the voice was not that of a boy. It was that of a man. It was that of a man she loved dearly.

"Germany…" Even though he was Holy Roman Empire, he was Germany prominently. This was okay. She loved Germany just as much as Holy Rome.

"Italy…" he said, a little louder.

"Yes?"

"You have to wake up…"

"But I don't want to…"

"Italy! We're going to be late!" Her eyes popped open. She found herself lost in an entirely new set of blue eyes, yet so familiar. She hugged its owner tightly. "I-Italy-"

"I'm so happy you're here." Taken aback by the sudden rush of affection, Germany wasn't quite sure how to respond. He settled on simply hugging the girl back, not sure what was going on but deciding that whatever it was, they could handle it. Together was a new concept to him, but he loved it.

"Kesesese! This is going to be a party no one's going to forget… Especially not my little brother and his hot new girlfriend… How dare she call the Awesome Prussia an old man?"

"Piyo!"

~:.:~^~:.:~

Springtime had come to every part of the world. Germany actually felt at ease driving up to America's doorstep for some reason. It was possibly because of the daffodils popping up, or America's tulips that were just waking up from their slumber. It could have always been the shy little Easter Lilly who only showed herself once a year. The birds were just settling in their nests as a beautiful sunset put everyone but a few nations to bed. He decided to sneak a glance at Italy, who was gazing outside with a smile on her face. Japan had volunteered to sit in the back, muttering something about how when they were together, they 'sparkled'* or something like that. He turned his Volkswagen into the enormous driveway, looking like it had enough space to hold 50 cars, and parked.

He unclicked his seatbelt, and was met by the sweet scent of twilight when he opened his car door. He looked over, and Italy met his gaze. An unspoken conversation passed through them, and he walked over to open her door. Women, especially romantic Italian women, preferred gentlemanly actions. Japan opened his car door, and looked around. The sunset was quickly fading, and that strange little part of time between day and night was quickly turning everything a mysterious heliotrope color. Italy clung to Germany's arm, and he let her. He'd rather her cling to him rather than end up in a mess like last time. The trio walked up to the door, and Italy pressed the button enthusiastically. The owner of the home, the blonde boy with glasses that were supposed to represent Texas and a cowlick on crack that was supposedly Nantucket, practically busted down the door in his excitement to open it. He probably could have, because he was known for being exceptionally strong. (Apparently rivaling Russia, but is a story for another day…)

"Hey guys! Japan, you made it!" he high-fived the nation, who returned it with less enthusiasm. America turned to Italy and Germany and busted into a wide grin.

"It seems my epic plan worked like a charm." America said. Italy grinned back at him.

"Your plan was awesome." She held up her hand to high-five him, which he returned but looked a little nervous.

"Just say it was epic. Prussia tried to sue me for copyrighting 'awesome'. My government's getting really strict on those copyright rule things…" America broke out into a wide grin again. "Come on in! I swear I've perfected that tiramisu thing this time!" This time, Germany accompanied Italy to the food table, where Italy was complimenting America on the fact he'd made sure his tiramisu was actually cake this time. He was about to try some when he heard some rather suspicious and familiar laughter.

"Prussia! What are you doing here?" he hissed, noticing the albino underneath the tablecloth.

"You'll see West, kesesese… You'll see…" With dread forming in his stomach, he decided to turn around and pretend that conversation had not happened. America was assuring Italy that the punch was safe (last time as it turns out, Russia had spiked the thing with vodka, which accounted for France's… behavior somewhat better) and Italy took the cup a little hesitantly but sniffed it.

"You're right, America!" she grinned. "I'd know if there was vodka in the punch. Russia gave me some when he thought I was sick, you know, when Romano told everyone I had a cold?" America nodded.

"This story I have to hear." America declared.

"Russia was at your house? When were you sick?" Germany felt a little confused. Why hadn't he heard about this?

"Oh, it was around when I told you. Romano was worried, so he told everyone I had a cold. Well Russia, bent on being my friend, decided to come cheer me up. I thought he would give me some chicken soup and be on his way, but he was really nice. He carried me to the couch, covered me in blankets, and fussed over me like a mother hen. Then he gave me vodka." She shuddered. "At first it was warm and I didn't mind too much… but too much is too much…" America stared at her a moment, contemplating this, and then asked,

"… What's a cold?" Germany face-palmed. He was about to go grab Italy for a conversation of his own (he felt America was being a little pushy… he wasn't jealous! Not at all!) When the second shocker (the first being that Italy and America were apparently good friends) of the night hit Italy… and by that, it meant literally.

"ITALY!" a female voice screamed. Italy let out a scream of a different kind, and latched onto Germany in terror. Both Germany and America immediately went in the defensive, but they realized, with confusion, that Italy's 'attacker'… was not attacking. She'd given Italy a hug.

"B… Belarus?" the three of them gasped.

"Da, it's me." She said, and the blonde female turned to Italy before pausing to swat the white bow on her head out of her navy eyes. "Italy! I wanted to thank you!" Italy peeped out from Germany's chest in confusion.

"F... F… For what?" she asked timidly. Belarus somehow managed to snatch Italy from Germany's grasp and clasped her hands, looking ready to explode from excitement.

"For helping me and Russia! Your advice put our relationship back together!" For a moment, the two of them stared at each other… and then began squealing and jumping up and down in a circle. Germany and America exchanged looks, but it was obvious neither of them had a clue what was going on.

"Here I am, yay!" Russia exclaimed, clearly more at ease as he made his presence known in the room. Germany caught a glimpse of that blonde man with the maple leaf walk over to Ukraine. Italy paled a bit at the sight of him, but she didn't seem as petrified as she did before. He decided that was good enough for him. He snatched Italy back and proceeded to join the other nations in the living room, who now stared at Italy.

"How did I not know you were a bloody girl all this time?" England burst out. "You're the bloody sorriest excuse of a man that-" Italy didn't hear half of what he said because she was watching his extremely animated, fluffy eyebrows.

"Onhonhon~ I knew Italy was a girl~"

"You are a very good actress-aru."

"I tried to bloody tell you but you wouldn't listen!" a small voice piped up.

"Go home, Sealand, you were not invited! This is a party for nations!" England yelled.

"I knew it all along!" Spain boasted. "I've known me pequeña Italia back when she dressed like a girl." Spain ruffled Italy's hair, and the girl giggled in response.

"Spain! Are you trying to touch her curl, you cupcake taco!" Romano had been trying out his new curse words all week, with great success.

"Of course not Romano!" the Spaniard pulled aforementioned southern Italian into a tight hug.

"Why would he touch her curl-aru?" China whispered to France. (For no other reason other than for some reason the unlucky Asian nation had ended up sitting next to the perverted European nation.)

"Onhonhon, that's a lovely ques-" France found himself the unlucky victim of a sucker-punch from Romano, knocking him out instantaneously.

"Yo! Everybody, listen up! My buddy has an announcement to make!" When Germany saw an Albino man walk up with a crate of tomatoes, he knew this would not end well.

"FOOD FIGHT!" Prussia yelled, and, though he was not a nation, managed to cause World War III… kind of.

Germany immediately found Italy a safe hiding spot under the kitchen sink. Italy clung to his arm, so he ended up having to stay in the tight, cramped space as well.

"This is like the time I pretended to be a tomato box fairy. Germany do you remember that?" Italy asked, turning toward him.

"Oh, er… yes…" Germany really wanted out of there. He wasn't sure if it was his close proximity to Italy, and his discomfort at being this close to anyone, or if he'd randomly developed claustrophobia. "I remember clearly." He said.

"That's great! I'm glad you didn't forget me, Germany… I don't know what I'd do if I lost you again…" she clung to his arm tighter, and Germany felt blood rushing to his head. He wished there was some way to tell her he wasn't going anywhere for a long, long time. It'd have to be without words, because he was a failure at romantic language, which was probably why France had bought him that book…

That's when he noticed a spring of a familiar looking leaf hanging from the top of the kitchen sink.

_ Mistletoe… _On this plant was a note. 'From America (Dr. LOVE) - with love! Xoxo!' He cracked a smile.

"Hey, Italy…" he began. She looked up at him.

"Yes, Germany?"

"There's something we haven't done in a really long time…" he mumbled.

"What is it?" she asked. He ever so gently pressed his lips onto hers.

"Kiss." He whispered.

And the couple shared their first kiss in a thousand years.

Japan meanwhile, was choking on a tomato that was stuffed down his throat and went down the wrong way.


	15. Extras, Deleted Scenes, and stuff

**Fun facts, deleted scenes, and… other stuff**

**Fun facts**

1. No Germany, Japan does not have telepathy; he can just read your face.

2. In Chapter 1, Italy falls a total of 3 times.

3. Hamburgers were invented in Germany. America just put a bun on it.

4. When Italy falls down and gets her tongue stuck on the pole, I stuck my tongue out and said her lines to accurately portray what it probably sounded like when she talked with a pole in her mouth back in chapter 1 (She says: "I guess there's no more need for your poles now, ve~?")

5. The manga Japan is reading in chapter 7 (dragon star) is a manga I drew a couple years ago. I didn't get more than 5 pages out of it, but I thought I'd reference my failure anyways. XD

6. In the last chapter, when America is talking about copyright? Yeah, I am making fun of SOPA, PIPA, and ACTA. Or whatever they were called.

7. The book France gave to Germany as a Christmas present, _1001 ways to be romantic _actually exists. I haven't read it, but I saw it at a thrift store.

8. In Chapter 4, when Germany is speculating if Austria's hair is purple? That's a reference to me as well. At one point, for some odd reason I thought his hair was purple. 0-o

9. In Chapter 13, when Japan mumbled about Germany and Italy 'sparkling' when they were together? My sister Bella, from Taiwan, was explaining to me what I acted like when I was around Giuseppe back when I was dating him. She kept referencing a Japanese word that apparently means 'you were so in love it's like you sparkled.' That's what Japan meant by 'they were sparkling'. Not that they were vegetarian vampire/fairies.

10. This is the first Hetalia fan fiction I've ever written.

**YEARBOOK SCENE**

He walked back in to find that Japan and Italy had somehow gotten on the subject of senior superlatives in a High School Yearbook. As to how they got on this subject, he wasn't sure. He simply sat down and decided to listen in on the conversation. He was hungry, as well, and Italy's pasta was always amazing. There was no one he knew who could take stalks of wheat and a tomato, the most confused fruit-veggie thing that existed, and turn it into something so wonderful. Sometimes he wondered if it was better than Wurst and potatoes… No, nothing was better than potatoes.

"They didn't have yearbooks when I finished High School." Japan said, almost sadly. "Italy, what was your superlative?"

"Um… well… Germany, what was yours?" Everyone paused while Germany awkwardly swallowed his pasta. Was there some sort of… hidden secrecy in Italy's subject change?

"Most boring brother." He said at last. "Prussia hacked it, but it was something stupid, originally…" Germany said.

"Wasn't it something like 'Most likely to survive the Zombie Apocalypse', or 'Most Caring'?" Italy asked.

"How do you know?" Germany asked, and felt a little embarrassed at the last part. How in the world he got voted for that, he wasn't sure. He thought back to his class. Who would've voted him as… that? He didn't remember ever seeing Italy in High School… but then again, he didn't pay much attention to the other students, which was probably why he couldn't remember any.

"I was in the same class." Italy said. Germany was a little confused. Shouldn't he have remembered Italy…? He shrugged.

"Okay, I've said mine, what was yours?" Germany asked. Between slurps of pasta, Italy explained that he hadn't gotten a superlative. Germany was a little confused. Italy should have at least gotten 'Best Smile' or 'Most Memorable'.

**END YEARBOOK SCENE**

**Favorite quotes taken completely out of context:**

"I leave you two for _five _minutes, and you're already making out on the floor? Germany, you ought to have more self-control." Happy feeling gone.

She must not have noticed the terrified, trembling mass of pink scarf behind the tree, because she entered the kitchen, calling out for Russia.

Oh, he'd figure it out on his own if he'd gone any lower…

Spain, meanwhile, was distracting all of his brain cells.

There was no manual he could find that dealt with apologizing for hurting your friends who lied to you about their gender and made you think you were gay.

"I exist in Canada!"

**THINGS TO NOTICE**

Greece stole Holy Roman Empire's cats

If you look close, Canada is in the Christmas party. See if you can find him!

Find the CSI reference! :D

**FAVORITE CHAPTER TO WRITE AND WHY**

Chapter 8, because of the Holy Roman Empire. He was so much fun to write for, with his awkward cuteness. Every page just makes me want to squeak with the cuteness.

**STUFF I WISH I COULD HAVE PUT IN **

The red white and green rose that smelled like pasta

More Canada x Ukraine

More sadness into chapter 10. It turned out WAAAAY too funny from my original plans.

Glass combat boots.

**DELETED RUSSIA SCENE**

Russia walked into the Italy's bedroom, intent on finding some extra blankets. There were a couple on the bed, but he figured Italy would need those to sleep. He needed his rest to get better. The better Italy felt, the easier it would be for him to make friends. Russia opened the closet next to bed, assuming there were more blankets hidden in that certain likely spot. When he opened the closet, however, he got the surprise of his life.

"Heavens to the Betsies!" he exclaimed at the spectacle before him, violet eyes wide in astonishment. Inside the closet were Italy's regular military clothes, and other such items he'd expect from a fashionable country, but that wasn't really what bothered the poor towering nation. He found a dress. Not just any dress, but a nice one, one that seemed perfectly tailored… for Italy. Wasn't Italy a guy? Why would he have… women's clothes? It must be ultra embarrass-

Oh.

_Oh._

Russia grinned as he took out the dress and laid it out on the bed to examine it further. It grew more obvious by each stitch that it was made for Italy, and the tag even said that it was made FOR Italy. Russia took out his camera required to him to wear from the mafia. Considering their similar… occupations, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to blackmail the little nation while Italy was too ill to do anything about it. Russia was about to snap the photo when another thought occurred to him: the reason Italy believed he was here.

He tucked his camera in his pocket, suddenly unsure. It _would _be supremely embarrassing if anyone found out about the dress. A good _friend _wouldn't tell anyone. Friends could also count as allies, he supposed, and the more allies, the better, even if all Italy could do was cook. Unsure of what to do, he simply sat on the bed (nearly flipping it over, but the thing was so little, in his defense) and thought about his next move. Friends or Domination? Such a hard choice…

He didn't get to think about it much. It seemed like the next moments, but he found himself startled to see two figures appear in North Italy's room, and these two figures had nothing to do with the warm nation at all. They were his sisters, Ukraine and Belarus. This sudden appearance would have even been slightly normal had he not noticed… what they were wearing. Ukraine was adorned in the whitest angel outfit he'd ever seen, complete with swan-like wings that were tucked in just barely below the shoulders. He couldn't see where the halo hovering above her short, light hair attached to her head, but he could take a guess. Belarus, on the other hand, had taken a different route, and ended up in a devil costume, which Russia found oddly fitting, from the sharp little pitchfork in her hand to the pointed tail in the back to the horns that seemed attached to her head rather than a headband.

"What are you two doing here?" he squeaked.

"We are the incarnations of your conscience!" Ukraine declared in a voice that seemed otherworldly.

"I don't have one…" Russia said, looking a little confused.

"Or rather, you just don't take the time to listen to us." Belarus' voice had gotten –if possible- much scarier than before.

"Because you have taken the time to decide what action would be best, we have rewarded you with our presence to help you make a decision- to continue in your plans to make everyone, as you put it, 'one with you', or to become friends and gain allies so you are not alone." Ukraine explained.

"I say you should blackmail the stupid little nation. No one would be able to stop you, and it will be so easy to make him do just about _anything- _even become one. Then you can use his warm, fertile land to grow all the sunflowers you desire." Belarus said, and looked at Ukraine as if to say, 'beat that'.

"But if you do that, you'll lose the one nation who could start the others into believing you're not… terrifying. If you make friends with Italy, the biggest coward, if you can earn his trust, nothing will stop you. You will be well-liked and respected by other nations." Ukraine said. "Who will allow you to grow sunflowers on their land willingly, and as a result, there will be less chance of a revolt." Ukraine finished, bobbing her head to the side, the movement accentuated by loud bouncing sounds and a feather dripping with glue floating to the ground.

"Who wants friends? Beside, revolts are fun." Belarus did a very impressive twirl of her pitchfork.

"Let… let me decide on my own…" Russia whined, feeling afraid of the two in front of him as they started to argue. They both turned to him.

"Yes, Mr. Russia." And the two of them disappeared, just like that. When Russia heard Romano walking down the hallway, he suddenly felt guilty about admiring Italy's dress, and stashed it in the closet. He grabbed the biggest bundle of blankets he could and ran out, only to bump into, or should we say _knock down _poor Romano.

"Ah, _privet, _comrade. I was getting blankets for your poor sick brother." He hastily explained himself, and without bothering to help the poor southern half of Italy, he returned to Italy, and quickly drowned him in vodka so he couldn't recall the angel feather glued right over his heart.

**END RUSSIA SCENE**

**ITALY GETS DRUNK requested by Breebellaleacullen**

I lay on the bed, face pale with terror. He was back, Russia was back. I shivered underneath my only protection, that pitiful little blanket, hoping he simply had some sort of soup in that thermos he was carrying with him everywhere. I felt his presence grow closer and suddenly a huge weight came on top of me, and for a second I thought he'd decided to sit on me or something, but it was all the blankets piled together on top of me.

"I heard from your brother you were sick from a cold, and when I heard that one of my friends was sick, I couldn't help but feel sad! Colds are common in Russia, so I know exactly how to treat it!" I whimpered and hoped he would only feed her chicken noodle. When he opened the thermos, however, I knew that was not what he had brought along. I remember that scent coming from the punch bowl, and a jolt of fear coursed through me. It was vodka.

"R-Russia?" I whined, and suddenly he popped the bottle in my mouth.

"Drink up, Italy! It'll warm you up." Russia said. As soon as it hit my mouth, I gagged. This stuff was so… gross! Russia pulled me into a sitting position and gently tipped the bottle towards my lips, realizing that stuffing it down my throat wasn't going to work out too well and waste the 'precious liquid'. Read: water from Hell's sewer.

"Do I have to?" I whined between gulps as my mind clouded.

"Da~." He said. "I want you to be all better so we can be friends." A shiver of fear coursed through me, but at the moment he'd wrapped the blankets around me so tight I could not escape. The fear was beginning to go away now, and was replaced by a weird sort of happiness, like everything bad had floated away… just like flying potatoes. I reached up, just to make sure the amethyst-eyed man in front of me existed, and my hand found his scarf and brushed against something soft, like a feather. His scarf, soft and old, appealed to me so I pulled the cuddly thing closer.

"Italy! Why are you hugging my scarf?" Russia whined, hugging his scarf as well.

"Fluffy…" I giggled, hugging it. I wasn't afraid of him anymore. He just looked like a child now. There was nothing to fear from him. He was nice. His scarf was… wonderful… wonderful scarf…

"I… I think you need more vodka…" he said, and I took the bottle from his hands and started chugging. The warm liquid felt good as it burned my throat. I pulled the scarf closer, burying my face in it. Unfortunately, a little shocked at my quick disposal of his favorite drink, Russia came down with his scarf, and I thought the blankets were heavy! It was like a refrigerator landed on me.

"H-hey! What are you doing to North Italy?" Romano screamed. What was probably the funniest thing I've ever seen happened right there. Romano actually ran Russia right out of our house. Romano dashed to my side.

"Are you okay?" I giggled. His concern was so touching… and to think, I still had Russia's scarf… so wonderful and soft…

"Was he trying to become one with you? Italy this is serious, stop giggling!" Everything went black right about there, but I didn't care. Time for my siesta! ~

( That… Was probably the weirdest thing I've ever written… 0-o RUN, RUSSIA, RUN! D: ROMANO'S GONNA KILL YOU!)

A.N. What was I on when I wrote that...? 0-o

**ROMANO'S FOOD ISSUES requested by AnEverAfter**

**(**_**A.N. this happens between chapters 10-11 part 1)**_

It was another sunny day in Nashville. The sun was just the right temperature and gently caressed the world below her. The outskirts of the city were all but deserted, and in the air, a delicious smell permeated the air with a thick, tomato-y scent. The sky was blue as a sapphire, with barely a cloud in the sky. Underneath this wonderful day stood a little restaurant known as the Pasta Palace, where only two people resided that still Thursday, sitting at the same table.

"Will she be ready in time?" the brunette man said, leaning heavily on the table, dark honey eyes revolving side to side and hand fingering the phone in the pocket of his Italian suit. The other man grinned broadly, and pushed his glasses farther up his tanned nose until they almost masked the shining brilliance of his deep blue eyes.

"Dude, Romano, have a little faith. Swaylor Tift is an excellent singer. She'll teach Italy all she needs to know by tomorrow. We've been working on her all week. She'll do great. This plan's going to work." America, the owner of the blue eyes, placed a strong hand on Romano's shoulder. The brunette glared at America's arm in disgust.

"Don't touch me." He said, pushing the offending object away and looked around again. "Where is Spain, anyways? He's supposed to be here, and I'm hungry." Romano complained and looked at his watch.

"The traffic in Nashville is horrible, just be patient and wait, and enjoy the beautiful day." America said. Romano rolled his eyes.

"Easy for you to say. Your sister's happiness doesn't all depend on an idiot and the living incarnation of Barbie." Romano growled at him. America suddenly looked offended.

"H-hey! That's not cool, man." America narrowed his eyes. "We do not insult Barbie like that." He protested, his bottom lip pursing like a child's. Before Romano could reach back and slap the stupid look off the nation's face, a plate arrived in front of him, and not just any plate, but a plate with his food, his favorite food, heaped up in an American-sized portion. It was pasta.

It was lots and lots of pasta.

Romano stared a moment, unsure whether the massive plate was for him alone or for some reason America thought it'd be okay to share, but when he looked over, America had a plate of his own, with –what else- a cheeseburger. Romano looked down at his plate. It was American-Italian food. He decided to tentatively try a bite, and was utterly surprised.

It was delicious! It was almost as good as Italian pasta! Confused but pleasantly surprised, Romano began eating quickly.

"You like it?" America said through a mound of burger in his mouth. Romano stopped, and glared at him. No way he was admitting America's food was even worthy to touch his tongue!

"No! I hate it! It's the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten!" He said between gulps of pasta. "And Ii hate you too! For making me eat this dog poop! I hate you! And where is Spain? He should be here by now! Ugh, this food is gross!" he complained through mashed up pasta in his mouth.

"Hola~! Sorry I got here late, traffic was terrible." A brunette with tanned skin said. "Romano, you must really like that pasta!" Spain said, putting a calloused hand on South Italy's back. Romano's head whipped towards him, and he stuffed the rest of the pasta in his mouth.

"Shut up! It's gross!" Romano growled.

"Dude, keep telling yourself that. I think it's great." America said, poking a fork inside his bowl and taking some of his pasta. Romano lost it right there, and leapt across the table, hands gripped on America's throat.

"Don't take my pasta!" Romano screamed, reaching for his gun. Spain dashed to America's rescue in a gallant fashion and picked Romano up, who screamed and flailed like a toddler as he was cradled under Spain's arm like a football.

"America, I think he likes your pasta." Spain said, offering to help the blond man up. Unfortunately, poor America had fainted.

**HEY ROMANO, GUESS WHAT? requested by breebellaleacullen**

**Happens during chapter thirteen. **

Romano beat against the German's door as hard as he could. Maybe if he knocked the stupid thing down, the German would have to spend all his time fixing it, and not with his sister. It had been only a couple of weeks or so, and he was already sick of the mush going on around here.

"Are you going to open up in there or not?" Romano yelled at the door, beating the inanimate object with fists long numb from fighting destroying the nerves. He kept beating on the door, and didn't even notice when the door was open up until his fist met other flesh, the forehead of a poor Asian man, one of Italy's friends, whom he couldn't remember the name of. It didn't matter. That guy was out cold.

"Romano!" Italy was about to hug him when she bent down next to aforementioned stupid Asian lying in his way, in the doorway. "What did you do to Japan?" she demanded, tears in her eyes. Romano rolled his eyes.

"He didn't dodge, it's his fault. C'mon, we've got to go, we actually have somewhere important to be, don't you remember? If boss finds out he's going to have us both hanging up by our… well, anyways, its important and we've got to go!" he said impatiently.

"But you knocked out Japan!" Italy protested, and called for none other than potato head himself to help her drag the body inside. "And I'm not leaving until I know he's okay!" she protested as she and potato plopped Japan on the couch

"You know, there has been something I've been meaning to uh… tell you…" Germany, that potato, started to speak, running his hand through his perfectly slicked blonde hair. Romano's dark honey eyes challenged the icy blue ones returning the glare. Italy, as usual, did not sense the atmosphere and simply sat on the arm part of the recliner where Germany was seated, looking as happy and content as a kitten. Romano growled.

"So what is it?" Romano demanded. "We haven't got all day." Germany raised his eyebrow and looked at Japan.

"Obviously." He said, and cleared his throat. "Hey um, Romano, there's uh, something you should know about me and uh… North Italy…" Romano jumped up.

"What have you done to my sister! You better not have pulled a Russia; I've already been fighting back that stupid vodka-freak!"

"I have done nothing of that nature!" Germany bellowed, face turning red. He tried to hold his anger in, but Romano? Not so much. Not only was he standing in the chair, he was literally shaking in rage.

"Romano!" Italy gasped. "Germany and I aren't drinking buddies, and besides, it was only once and I'll never do it again, it was horrible! I still have Russia's scarf, I'll have you know!" Italy yelled, coming to the defense of the German as if it was natural to defend him against her brother. Unfortunately, it was.

"Ahem! What I am trying to say is that… um… well… me and Italy… we're very close and…"

"Excuse me?" Romano could see himself now. He jumped off the chair, hands going straight for that idiot's throat that dared set foot near his sister. He could see his hands closing in on his neck, squeezing as hard as he could, relishing the purple bruises appearing, maybe taking a grenade and blowing him up, watch his legs go one way and the upper half fly the opposite direction. Imagine kicking him until he fell unconscious, waiting until he woke up and repeating, repeating, repeating…

He shook his head. As tempting as those thoughts were… He looked at Italy, and looked at Germany, and sighed. They… they were perfect for each other. Ah _merda_. He created a grand total of thirty-two new curse words for about two minutes before finally deciding.

"Alright, alright, fine. You can date my sister, but I swear if you step one foot out of line it'll be shoved through your neck before you can say sorry. Now, me and Italy must go, so sorry to inconvenience you both, but we have stuff to do. Nation stuff." He grabbed Italy's arm and quite literally dragged her out of the house, muttering his new curse words to himself.

"Man… I've turned into such a cupcake…" he groaned.

**END**

Feel free to suggest any scenes you may want to see. Until then, live long, prosper, and eat lots and lots of pasta!


End file.
